It was a warm afternoon of sunbeams resting on my shoulders carrying buckets of sugar water to the feeders. I felt the soft sound of cool, new grass beneath my boots. After the chores were done, the sporadic shade was a welcome retreat for a cup of coffee. I watched the delicately purposeful, figure eight orientation flights, and a sense of peace filled the air. This came with a constant hum of hope, flowing from these little boxes of promise.