Last spring, as I was putting out my wind chimes, I remarked to my family at hand that I needed new ones as mine are getting rather ratty looking. In fact I’m sure I mentioned that I’d like some of the deeper toned ones that are too pricey for me but would make a nice gift (hint hint) and to spread the word.

Mother’s Day came and went with no wind chimes. My birthday came and went without so much as a tinkle. But soon that would change. There was a fabric sale up Syracuse way boasting 1,000 bolts of fabric. Apparently a woman died, leaving behind her stash. She didn’t just buy yardage of what she liked, she bought entire bolts — some she had actually bought more than one of. It will take years for her kids to sell it all by the yard like they are currently doing. I’ve been there twice and still haven’t seen more than half of her stash. The irony here is that the woman didn’t even sew.

It blows my mind. Obviously the woman had a problem because fabric wasn’t the only thing for sale. She had more brand new sheet sets than I have snowmen. She clearly loved a black and white shirt because she had bought five identical ones. I don’t judge, I just find it fascinating.

So while I was plowing through piles of bolts on that second visit, I kept banging my head on a wind chime that hung from the dearly-departed’s garage door track, not recalling it from the first visit but thinking maybe it was hanging there in place of a tennis ball to tell someone they had pulled into the garage far enough.  I was getting annoyed because it was in my way.

The only good thing about it was the loud deep tone of it each time I knocked it with my noggin. “I wish this was for sale,” I said loud enough for the deceased woman’s son to hear me.

“It is. That’s why I hung it there.” And so I finally had what I had been dreaming of for years and it only cost $11.

I hung it immediately, price tag and all. And though the winter winds are now approaching I haven’t had the heart to take any of them down because what good are wind chimes without wind?

And that is how I found myself out on the porch at 4 a.m. in my robe and socks while wind gusts of 20 mph caused my beautiful new wind chime to hit my last nerve. I couldn’t sleep for all the racket so I just got up and choked the life out of it.

Well, I’m sure that’s how it looked to anyone watching. I was really just trying to keep it from making any more noise. Of course I’m pretty sure I was the only idiot up at that hour.

And while we are on the subject of chimes: last year about this time a fellow volunteer asked me if I had a Ring doorbell because she was thinking of getting some for her kids for Christmas. I said I didn’t but that my son did so I texted Rachel to ask how she liked it and she even showed me the view she had of her front yard so that my friend and I could see how much showed up in the camera.

I was impressed and mentioned that I ought to get one because I can’t see who’s at the side door without actually opening it — which is dangerous. Well didn’t that sweet daughter-in-law give me one for Christmas. (I’m thinking maybe she’s the one I should have told about wanting wind chimes. I’d probably have enough for the backyard, too.)

Jeremy installed it and Rachel downloaded the app for me. What fun I had watching the comings and goings of people and surprising them when I talked to them through it. It didn’t matter whether I was home or not … as long as I had my iPad I always knew someone was at my door because chimes would ring. Nine times out of 10 it was the hubby because he goes in and out that door about 20 times a day.

You know I like chimes, but let’s do the math here. Twenty times a day for 11 months is about 6,700 times. The fun is wearing thin. And you don’t even want to be around when he’s mowing the lawn over that way or plowing the driveway. I have to stuff my iPad under my mattress because it’s maddening. The chime is designed to be louder than any program you are watching on it so you can’t hear, and the text box that drops down tends to cover up any game I might be playing.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, because I do, but my love of chimes is taking a big hit this year.

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