The Hummingbird Theory

“A cup of Aunt Lula’s coffee is a good beginning to one of her breakfast specials,” Baird said, directing Piper to the back of the little country store where the door led to a sun bathed back porch.  Among hanging baskets of pansies there were rocking chairs and tables with red- checkered tablecloths.  “What do you think?” Baird asked, as he pushed open the door. “For October, this is a pretty mild day,” he smiled.

“Actually it is not too cold at all,” Piper said, walking to the railing to take in the beauty of fall foliage. The sun, shining through the vibrant orange, red, and yellow leaves seemed to counter the morning chill.

“My God!” she shrieked, placing her hands over her eyes,  “I didn’t expect this!” After a moment she removed her hands and looked down again.  “This is awesome!”  Piper had not realized that the old country store was perched on the side of the mountain and the back porch hung a few hundred feet above the river.  “Is this place safe?” she asked, backing away from the rail.

“This little store has been here for almost three quarters of a century, and I’m sure it will make it at least through breakfast,” Baird laughed.

Aunt Lula appeared with two huge mugs of hot coffee.  Baird accepted his as presented, while Pipe added sugar.  Resting the mug against the rail, she mustered the courage to take another look.  Just before the river reached the point where it passed under the porch, there was a huge drop in the riverbed.  The waterfall this drop created was totally unexpected.  Huge boulders at the base of the falls acted as an obstacle course through which the water was forced to pass.  The sound of the water crashing over the rocks in the distance competed with the gentler sounds of the water as it passed directly below. 

Baird picked up his mug and took a sip of the steaming hot coffee.  “I’m convinced that Aunt Lula’s coffee is the best in the world,” he smiled.

“I think I would have to agree,” Piper said, after taking a swallow.  “This is a very interesting place.   Do you come here often?”

“Every chance I get!” Baird returned, looking out over the river.

The sound of the river below, the shimmering colors of fall leaves moving in a gentle breeze, and the sun bathed porch hanging off the side of a mountain made for a scene that Piper Prescott could never have imagined when she resisted coming on this adventure into Ghost Mountain with her old high school beau.  The past twenty-five years had been kind to Baird McCabe.  The sunlight coming from the left side of his face made his blue eyes appear almost transparent.  Piper knew she was staring, but she seemed powerless to resist.  She had forgotten the features of that face, and she was surprised at how nostalgic she was feeling at this moment. 

Following Baird’s lead, Piper felt warm enough to remove her jacket.  With the mug of steaming hot coffee in hand, she sat in one of the oak rocking chairs and gently rocked while talking to Baird.  Leaning against the rail, he seemed perfectly at home in this setting.   Piper lost track of time and seemed surprised when Aunt Lula appeared carrying two large plates piled high with the most wonderful smelling mountain morsels.

“Thanks, Aunt Lula!  As always, it looks and smells wonderful,” Baird said, helping Aunt Lula place the plates on the table.  Baird leaned over the table as if to embrace the aroma.  “I can’t believe what she does to plain old ordinary food,” he said, pulling out the chair for Piper.

Piper looked down at the platter-sized plate full of eggs, ham, potatoes, baked apples, grits and a couple of things she wasn’t sure about.  Before she had time to completely survey the plate, Aunt Lula appeared with a basket full of fresh baked biscuits.  As she put the first taste of the scrambled egg in her mouth, she closed her eyes and savored the taste.

“Not quite like any scrambled egg I’ve ever eaten, but truly splendid,” Piper said, opening her eyes.   Each taste was equally amazing as she made her way around the plate.  “This is unbelievably good!” she exclaimed, barely able to speak between bites.

“I swear, I don’t know how she does it, but it is like manna from heaven,” Baird continued.  “I’ve been coming here for years and it is always pretty much the same... won-der-ful!  I only share this place with very special friends,” he said with a shy smile.

“I’m glad to be counted among your friends,” Piper laughed.  

As the two sat eating Aunt Lula’s breakfast special, and listening to the river below, there was a shift of gears for the normally high-flying sophisticate.  If you listened very carefully, you could hear the grinding as her body fought giving up the high speed of her normal pace.  The shift was visible as her resistance to the slowing process disappeared.  She was becoming more relaxed and less intense.  There was an enjoyment of the moment, instead of the urgency to hurry to get through it, as was her custom.

By the time the two old friends finished their breakfast and were ready to depart on the next stage of their mountain adventure, Piper was running smoothly and comfortably in 2nd gear.  The nervous, impatient finger tapping was all but gone, and her mind seemed to be fully engaged in Aunt Lula’s back porch overlooking the river, not racing ahead of the moment, fearing slowing down, or God forbid... boredom.