Windchimes

I love the sound of windchimes. As long as I can remember, they've been a part of the soundscape of my life, a sound I've associated with safety and comfort. We never had them at my parents' house because repetitive noises of that type drive my father crazy. The windchimes of my childhood were always the ones hanging on my Granny's and my Nana's porches.

I remember those endless summer afternoons and evenings sitting in rocking chairs talking and watching the day fade out while whatever slight breezes there were stirred the metal, glass, or ceramic chimes into song. The simple notes mixed with the tree frogs and other country night sounds. Whether I was sitting and talking with family or alone and reading, they made the backdrop for peace and serenity.

When I went to Japan, I was delighted to find that windchimes were a part of the summer culture there, too, beautiful glass ones painted with scenes, china and porcelain ones shaped like maneki neko, and cast iron ones shaped like temple bells or whimsical animals. I collected enough of those to keep my tiny apaato filled with wind music, and I brought them home. Most of the fragile glass ones are gone now, but I still have enough of them left to stir good memories when the sound in Mississippi breezes.

I now have chimes hanging from three of my four porches. I also have placed one here on this blog, just in case you haven't noticed the gentle chiming. I am keeping the music alive, tranquil and sweet.