Grandma and Hummingbirds

I can't look at our hummingbird feeder without thinking of my Grandma Pearl.  I don't know if she always had several feeders hanging by her front porch but I know she did when I was a teenager and an early twenty-something.  She loved those birds.  There weren't just a couple of birds.  There were a good  15 at least.  It seemed they were constantly darting around, fighting each other for some of that sweet water.  Their humming was a dull background noise to our porch conversations.  Once, when the evenings were turnning cool, too cool for  a little bird who had hung around too late in the season, Grandma found it outside and brought it in the house to warm.  It did warm up and spent the night inside with her and Papa.  She sent it on its way the next morning.  I think she loved that.
Recently she said to me, "Remember when you used to be afraid of those little birds?"
Those little birds that fluttered about a little too aggressively for me?
I had forgotten that.
Now, we don't have near as many hummingbirds at our feeder but we still love to watch, waiting for a glimpse of just one, maybe two.