August 12, 2016 | The hummingbirds are addicted to my tree. Seriously addicted. They flit from one flower to the next in a dizzying nectar-drunk state of euphoria.
We have a new tree in our back yard. I call it a tree in a generous sense, because it has a trunk, and branches, and leaves, but at only five feet tall, it could easily be confused for a fledgling bush or hedge or boxwood - if those things had tree trunks.
Our new little tree may be small, but it is doing its best to produce the heartiest bunch of lavender flowers I've ever seen. Its official name is The Rose of Sharon, although the flowers do not look like roses, the tree does not look like a rosebush, nor does it resemble our neighbor, Sharon. Although, our neighbor Sharon can usually be found in her garden, and she is known to have a very green thumb.
The reason I am ruminating on the existence of this tree is because, after conducting a careful study, (and by careful, I mean repeatedly looking out my kitchen window at said tree) I have deduced that the flowers growing on my Rose of Sharon contain in their pistols and stamens the Nectar of the Hummingbird Gods.
Those frantically busy birds are addicted to my tree. Seriously addicted. They come back, again, and again. They flit from one flower to the next before flying away in a dizzying nectar-drunk state of euphoria.
They don't bother with the actual rose bushes, ignoring them, along with the hollyhocks and the black-eyed Susans and the Echinacea. They pay attention only to The Rose of Sharon, zooming directly there and nosediving into each bloom. You'd think we were growing a crack cocaine bush against the east fence.
I'm not sure if my spritely little tree possesses magic that draws the tiny birds into its foliage, but it is definitely magical watching it dispense happiness to all the hummingbirds visiting from near and far.
I wish I could ask them what the big deal is with my Rose of Sharon, but they're not big on stopping for a chat. Even if they did, I don't speak Hummingbird. Although, I can hum a decent tune. Maybe tomorrow I'll begin a new study and see if my humming will lure any of the little nectar-seeking addicts away from my Rose of Sharon long enough to ask.
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