Hummingbirds, Boundaries, and the Art of Letting Things In—Safely

The hummingbirds are coming back.

I haven’t seen one yet this year, but I know it’s close. There’s a certain shift in the air this time of year. The mornings feel a little different. Lighter. Like something is about to begin again.

Last summer, they were everywhere.

Not just one or two—but a whole little community of them. Zipping around, hovering, fighting over feeders, then disappearing just as fast as they came. It became part of my day… sitting outside, coffee in hand, watching something so small bring so much life to the space.

This year, I want that again. In fact,I want more!

But this year, I’m thinking about it a little differently.

Because with adding more brings in a certain dilemma… I also have a bird dog.

And if you know anything about bird dogs, you know—they are not out there for the aesthetic.

I’ve been looking at my patio, trying to figure out how this is going to work.

Because I want the hummingbirds close. I want the movement, the energy, the quiet excitement of catching one out of the corner of my eye. But I also know exactly what would happen if they got too close to the ground.

It wouldn’t end well.

And the thing is—I am NOT parting with my dog.

And I’m not giving up the hummingbirds.

So now what?

This is where it shifted for me.

Because I know it’s not about choosing one or the other.

It needs to be about creating a space where both can exist… just not with the same level of access.

I started thinking about placement.

Where can I hang the feeders so they’re still visible, still enjoyable—but just out of reach? Maybe a little higher. Maybe just outside the fence line. Maybe closer to where I sit, instead of scattered around where everything has access.

The same goes for the flowers.

I have these taller pots—about two feet high—that I can use to bring everything up. Not blocking anything. Not restricting anything. Just… elevating it enough to protect it. Then angling the patio chairs for a bit more protection.

Nothing is being taken away.

It’s just being placed with intention.

And somewhere in the middle of all of this, I realized…

This isn’t just about hummingbirds.

There are things in life that I want close to me.

People. Energy. Conversations. Experiences.

But not everything—or everyone—gets full access anymore.

That doesn’t mean they’re bad.

It doesn’t mean they have to be completely removed.

It just means they don’t belong everywhere.

Some people are like my dog.

Loyal. Familiar. Even lovable in a lot of ways.

But also instinctive. Reactive. A little too intense for certain spaces.

And some things are like the hummingbirds.

Light. peaceful. easy to disrupt if the environment isn’t right.

And if I don’t create some structure… the softer things don’t stand a chance.

-Side note- there's nothing wrong or bad about this it just needs to be able to to flow in my environment in harmony.

I think for a long time, I thought boundaries had to be extreme. ( on rare occasions they do)

Cut people off.

Shut things down.

Remove access completely.

But I’m starting to see it differently.

Sometimes it’s not about shutting things out.

It’s about deciding how close things are allowed to get.

I can have the dog.

I can have the hummingbirds.

I just can’t have them in the same space… at the same level… without a little thought behind it.

And maybe that’s the whole point.

Not everything needs to be forced to work together.

Some things just need space.

Some things need height.

Some things need a little distance to stay intact.

This morning, I sat outside again.

It was quiet. No hummingbirds yet.

But everything is ready.

The hooks are in place. The pots are filled. The space feels… intentional.

Protected, but not closed off.

And when they come back—and they will—

They’ll have a place here.

Just not one that puts them at risk.

I’m starting to realize…

That’s what harmony actually looks like.

Not empty.

Not isolated.

Just thoughtfully arranged.

I hope this makes sense.