The hummingbirds have not yet arrived. Or if they have, I have not seen them yet. We stowed the feeder in the garage over the winter, along with geraniums, the Adirondack chairs, and the fire pit to keep them out of the weather. The geraniums died and I’d imagine, too, the feeder froze in its glass once or twice when the lows dipped to twelve for those few days in December. But the feeder was unreachable, behind the rubble of kitchen remodel riffraff and piles of tile and the small stack of birch logs we acquired from our neighbor when they brought their old tree down. Thankfully the feeder had not burst. I lazily re-hung it sometime in February, but it hasn’t had any visitors since last fall. Yesterday, therefore, I rinsed it clean of the ants that had braved the heights of the gutter and feasted on the simple syrup and placed it back on the corner of the garage that overlooks the garden. Between the bees and the butterflies and the hummingbirds, my eyes have a full spring to-find list.