Before the month is gone, thought Id share my front porch and its wind chimes: Warning: May cause drowsiness My Wind Chimes in Spring March has roared in like a lion, as the saying goes. The fierce, fickle winds have encouraged the showers of brown leaves from my oaks that collect and shift like snow drifts rearranging themselves about the yard. They have brought a new energy and excitement to my private universe. And the persistent sun takes every opportunity to bathe my world in its brilliance despite the racing clouds that would like to stay and block it out. Mr. Sol declares hope of awakening many things left dormant for the last few dark months. My internal clock, or calendar, if you will, is closely aligning with the external rhythms. The myriad of stimuli are almost more than I can process in the rapidly changing ambiance. In the attempt to at once embrace the chaos and calm my mind to worship in awe the Creator of such magnificent events, I sit quietly in my front porch rocking chair amid the cacophony of flailing limbs, rustling leaves, jubilant birds, lawn mowers, useless leaf blowers, dutiful dogs, and 8 wind chimes lining the eaves of my porch. No two chimes look or sound alike. One is so tiny and fragile sounding one might think it was ice crystals shattering against each other. But it endures. The one beside it has a sun catcher suspended as a pendulum striking the faded blue metal tubes of various lengths producing a slightly lower and louder pitch than the ice crystals. It holds precious memories of my mother tying different objects to it to entertain my toddler grandson seven or eight years ago. The grandson is now nine and my mother has left only her love, wisdom, and priceless memories behind. The third is one of the two bamboo chimes with their clocking-tocking melodies. The hollow reeds hold an earthy melancholy note as an undertone as if to ground the more ethereal tinkling of the higher pitches in the orchestra. Im reminded that I need the earthly ties of my corporal being to transport my true self in preparation for the next realm. Number four is an old Christmas door hanger with silver bells attached to various lengths of cord. Its job is to remind me of the many happy holidays this home has hosted through the decades. So far there have been five generations who have basked in the warmth and glow of the fire that has forged my family. The fifth soldier is showing its age with only 3 remaining sound makers, but it too is faithful to its post; stoically refusing to concede to the weather and passing years. Long forgotten the occasion that brought it to the line, but such a part of the family now that it would still be sorely missed. And the sixth and seventh are similar in shape but still maintain their individuality with the sounds they emit. Spirals trail from round centerpieces and persist as standards for the circle of life in my wonderful domain. The larger one is much deeper in tone and puts one in mind of church bells summoning parishioners to worship with them; proclaiming the Glory of the Lord. The smaller of these two reminds me of the childrens choir singing four part harmony in the upper octaves. Last but certainly not least is the bigger bamboo chime with the brilliant blue globe at the top. It easily catches the attention of infants and toddlers. It also gets the most attention from older ones as well as it hangs beside the steps that lead to the patio under the oaks. It seems to sense people as they are about to pass and usually manages to catch just enough of the breeze to say “Hello, Im here. Notice my beauty and play with me to hear my sweet, mellow song. I will cheer you up, calm you down, comfort you, watch over you and sing you lullabies at night if you will but let me.” My cheerful companions attend my afternoon meditative solitude as I wave my problems away in my faithful wooden rocker. Thank you, Lord for the beauty that permeates everything around me. And for the comforting symbolism of my wind chimes.
Posted on: Thu, 27 Mar 2014 12:09:23 +0000
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