You Were Expecting William James?

I fully intended upon sitting down and posting some erudite reflection on farm life, but my mind currently contains nothing but an image from this morning:
I'm fixing a shelf in the packing shed and have all my little tools gathered around me. All, that is, but the right size screw. So I walk back up to the shop and start turning over jars and containers until I find what I need, when this hummingbird flies in, circles around a few times, considers feeding from an old brakelight on the shelf, thinks better of it, and departs. There. I've shared.