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My neighbor’s backyard is a blend of sunshine and shadows. The dimly lit coolness offers a sanctuary for rabbits and squirrels and a pesky chipmunk or two. When the shade moves, the light glistens on red and yellow fence-row plants. Black-eyed Susan’s are about to bloom, but for now the cuphea steals the show and my hummingbirds.

My hummingbirds? Well, when they sipped at the feeder in my flower patch, they seemed like mine. They were deliberately invited guests who in past years would stay long enough for sugar swigs and then disappear to the lawns that richly shared cuphea and scarlet sage. Before my beebalm blossomed, those birds could be lured to sweeter treasures; but they had always stayed long enough for me to glimpse a blur of motion and colors.

This year my feeder empties even though I have not spotted a single hummingbird. Catching them has become a challenge. I open the curtains ever so slightly at all hours, but no visitors are present. I miss the fluorescent greens and reds and purples but have not forgotten them. I miss the mercurial movement that, like lightning, had etched faint tints in the air.

Maybe my hummingbirds have truly disappeared, and only the ghosts of yesteryear visit my butterfly garden. I hear water cascading into the small pond. I see clematis climbing the fence, and I know the glass feeder is emptied twice a week. What if I have become content only to feed apparitions of beauty?

Speedy specters with frantic wings? Maybe but probably not. More than likely my real phantoms are the memories that are missed more than hummingbirds. The past definitely makes brief stops in my head and heart. The catalysts are simple but unpredictable: music, the fragrance of yeast rolls and homemade cookies, photographs and so on. As we all know, smells and sights and sounds bring back moments.

Just as I have tried to attract hummingbirds and butterflies, I have intentionally chosen to be a positive caretaker of my recollection garden. That has required practice and patience and perseverance. But, because best memories have been weeded and watered and fed, brief flashes of beautiful people and wonderful events in my life often appear. Like the blurred colors of hummingbirds, they are not forgotten.

Occasionally, as you might guess, I get a little greedy. I like sugar swigs myself. I want to spot the wonders of this world as often as possible. Seeing a Northern Flicker once, for example, is not enough. So, if a phantom friend or loved one or the joy of a “remember when” materializes, I turn quickly to experience each one again before the rapture fades. What a futile but worthy endeavor!

My memories are as mercurial as my hummingbirds and just as beautiful. They hover unseen waiting to be appreciated. The surprise is always welcome. The rewards are priceless.