Judy's Garden

I arrived in Albuquerque dried up and brittle. After months of working at a full-time desk job and our fledgling art business, I was in deep need of rest and renewal.

To me, water for the soul comes through the beauty of the creation. I hoped and prayed that somehow during this trip I'd be able to immerse myself in the natural beauty that abounds in the high-desert of New Mexico.

I had set my expectations on "Low." This visit was to be a time for reconnecting with family we hadn't seen for several years. The demands of family--each person's needs and desires--often take precedence over one's own needs. I had prayed for grace to be flexible and grateful in whatever situations I would meet.

Thankful for a smooth and uneventful flight, with just a bit of alarm when Zach's blood sugars skyrocketed somewhere over Texas, we arrived in Albuquerque late morning, where we were met by Craig's dad, Ira. After a much-needed lunch prepared by Sally, Craig's mom, we set off in their Scion for Judy's place--the Bed and Breakfast where we would spend the next eleven days.

Three years previous, we'd spent a week at Judy's place. We had found it to be a welcoming and hospitable refuge, and looked forward to this return visit.

After lugging my ridiculously heavy suitcase up the flight of stairs, I slipped downstairs and headed for my favorite place in Albuquerque--Judy's garden.

Stepping down from her shaded porch, I stopped, closed my eyes, and breathed in the fragrance of lavender that occasionally wafts through her yard. I walked slowly along the meandering paths, stopping to kneel down and observe a cluster of Mexican Hat, while an aquamarine skink eyed me from the shadows.

Judy strolled out about this time to point out a hummingbird nest on the lower branch of one of her sycamore trees. "The baby birds just left yesterday. I was hoping you'd get to see them."

It was enough just to be able to see the tiny, delicate nest so close up. Judy had been studying up on hummingbirds, and told me how the female builds the nest, sits on the eggs, and feeds the babies all on her own.

The next morning, as Judy and I chatted on her porch, we suddenly noticed that we were being buzzed by a fretting hummingbird.We looked around, and discovered a nest--set in the indentation of the heart-shaped ornament that hung from the eaves.

Over the next few days, we watched through the window as Mama Hummer brought fuzz from the seeds of the nearby sycamores, and spider webs, to build and tack down the nest. At each stop she would tamp down the fuzz, and then wriggle back and forth to create a perfect fit.

After several days, Judy handed me--the taller of of us--a mirror to hold up to the nest. At first we saw nothing. I moved it around some until Judy exclaimed, "There's one!" I had to laugh at the triumph in her voice.

Two days later, we held the mirror up again. Nothing at first. I moved it around. "There's two!"

I never see those eggs, but the excitement in Judy's voice was enough for me.

I imagine those two little eggs have by now given way to two baby hummers. I hope Judy has found another tall friend to hold up the mirror.

Meanwhile, my once-parched spirit continues to feed on the nectar of that gift--just one of many--from Judy's garden.