Last week, on the eve of the deepest chill and wind chill of the season, I reached into reserves of dogged determination to secure my harvest of fennel, dill, peppers, French sorrel, amaranth and most of the turnips.
At the end of a day flying under cerulean sky above a sheet of clouds and traversing airports, my eyes exchanged the densely wooded, rounded hills of the northeast for Albuquerque, New Mexico’s fantastical Sandia Mountains.
Master Ruby Throat then flies to a neighboring structure with more scarlet blossoms, alights and, in a blink of an eye, is whisked away by another hummingbird.
