Aki sleeps. The hummingbirds feast on sugar water. There are three of them, a couple and a single guy that only feeds when the other two are full. Almost every tree, bush, and plant in the yard is heavy with flowers, including red columbine bushes. Columbines sustain hummingbirds in the wild. The tiny guys ignore organic, holistic, healthy blossoms to feast on sugar water—the feeder a hummingbird junk food drive through. I feel a little guilty about the thrill I get when they blink into existence at the feeder then hover and suck down the stuff. But guilt does not block admiration.