This morning I awoke before it was light out. I have been attending a spin class three times a week, at 7:15 and I wake up early enough to read the papers and have a pot of tea before I trudge to the gym.
Last night, I had filled the feeder at the far end of the balcony with all that was left of the sugar water, then I had made some more before going to bed. So this morning I dashed outside to get the feeder to refill it while the kettle heated and was startled to see a hummingbird sleeping on the rail of the feeder. His bill was pointed upward, his neck had retreated into his body, the shape of a cotton ball with a toothpick pointing straight up. I had read about the state of torpor that the hummingbirds, but had never witnessed it first hand. It was thrilling, and I moved to within about a foot of the feeder, watching his tiny chest heaving up and down.
Ten minutes or so later when the light was brighter outside, I peeked out and saw that he had woken and gone.
The building rises steadily outside of our window. Our view of the Los Angeles skyline has always featured the US bank building but now just the crest of the building is still visible, and probably only for another week or so until they add the next floor.
I did make it to the class at 7:15, but was overcome with such torpor that my little legs weren’t getting me up the hills or over the jumps or even through the sprints. In my mind I was crouched on the railing of the feeder, like a little cotton ball bird. Well, hopefully I will do better on Wednesday!