On this morning, it feels as though fall is gone, having already ceded space in full to winter. The skies are bright and clear, the air sharp as a scalpel’s edge: The winds that howled the whole of the night have seen to that, pushing out every cloud — and with it, every last shred of residual warmth — to make way for more bitter cold.
It’s disorienting, these rapid shifts in season, having gone in scant weeks from an Indian summer in late October to full winter weather by the middle of November.
And summer it was last month, days when the mercury rose into the eighties, when late dragonflies at last appeared and the hummingbirds refused migration until the last possible moment. One of the latter, especially tiny and especially tough, too, remained a few days after our first real snowstorm, apparently unwilling to leave a supply of ready food for the winter unknown.
Even he has moved on by now, of course; these small spirits may be strong, but the bodies are fragile, and far too vulnerable to the recent cold winds. But the continued appearance here of him and his clan so late in the season is a message — or, perhaps more accurately, a collection of messages. In some of the cosmologies of this broader region, the role of hummingbird is that of messenger of the spirits, and it is clear that we are long overdue for hearing them.
Some consider them messengers of love, but it doesn’t do to regard that symbolism too reductively. Hummingbirds are fierce, too, particularly in defense of themselves and their own, and of the resources that they need to survive. That’s a message we would all do well to heed these days: If we do not defend the earth (and indeed, we have done a miserable job thus far), she will certainly defend herself. We are reaping that whirlwind daily now.
But Hummingbird carries other messages, too. That is certainly true of those who remained with us far past their usual time this year, taking advantage of the unseasonably warm air and ready food supply to prepare for the long cold journey ahead. Their presence reminds us that even with such upheavals are we are now witnessing daily, with the alterations and adaptation that increasingly will be required of us, there is hope.
On this weekend, particularly, hope is a powerful message for our peoples. It reminds us that we belong to the land, and that this earth has always taught (and continues to teach) us the first principles of sovereignty. Like Hummingbird, we fly on indigenous wings and sovereign winds.
And so it’s fitting, on this final day of this long holiday weekend, that we should feature his likeness in two forms: one for the rising sun; one for the clear blue of the day. The first, above, carries the color of the dawn fire. From its description in the Pins Gallery here on the site:
On Sunny Wings Hummingbird Pin
Summer departs and autumn arrives on sunny wings. The small fierce spirits of this threshold season infuse this work by Wings, a tiny silver hummingbird who carries the sun itself. The wingéd one is cut freehand out of sterling silver, with wings outstretched in full hover and dagger-like beak at the ready. A triangular point defines the beak; a single lengthy score line separates the wings. Sunrise symbols in two sizes delineate body and edge of wing feathers; the tailfeathers are formed by a flowing-water motif and edged with arrowhead points. Where wings join body, a single small round cabochon rests in a saw-toothed bezel: fiery orange amber, the color of the autumn sun in a place and space of magic, mystery, and medicine. Pin stands 1.5″ high by 2-1/8″ across at the widest point; amber cabochon is 3/16″ across (dimensions approximate).
Sterling silver; amber
$625 + shipping, handling, and insurance
The second holds the clear blue of this desert sky, one infused with the same perfect clarity as the one outside the window on this cold still morning. From its description in the same gallery:
Pollinating Sky Hummingbird Pin
Hummingbirds are tiny messengers of the spirits, tasked with spreading nectar upon the winds, pollinating sky in the summer light. Wings summons one of these small emissaries into being with his newest pin, one that assumes Hummingbird’s form and shape. Cut freehand from sterling silver, caught in hovering flight, her wings are scalloped with sunrise symbols, her tailfeathers articulated by way of arrowhead points. Seen in profile, her eye is a tiny hoop, wings separated and body and yoke defined by hand-chiseled lines. Additional hand-stamped symbols of ethereal radiance accent throat, wings, and body. Where neck meets wings, she carries a single piece of sky, an impossibly clear, electric blue turquoise cabochon set into a saw-toothed bezel. Pin is 1.5″ high by 2.25″ across at the widest point; cabochon is 3/16″ across.
Sterling silver; blue Kingman turquoise
$625 + shipping, handling, and insurance
We learn much from the spirits indigenous to this place. They are the vanguard in the fight for survival, what modern tech-speak would call “early adopters” in the process of adaptation. They know that which we forget: that we do not have nearly as much control over the world as we like to believe.
But they also remind us that we of this earth and it is of us; our peoples are as indigenous as the four-legged and wingéd ones. They remind us, too, of earth and sky, fire and water, air and wind, the storm and the sacred directions — that all are sovereign, beyond our ability to colonize or control in any significant way.
In an unsettled and too-rapidly changing world, our task is to adapt, and to protect. For our peoples, it is also to survive, to create a better, more balanced world for our children’s children, that they, too, may fly on indigenous wings and sovereign winds.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2018; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.
