From The Fence Post
Greg Bade
There are two kinds of people in the world: those who do and those who do not, those who lead and those who do not, those who are and those who are not, and those who like wind chimes and those who do not.
I am one of those people who happens to like wind chimes, and I also believe in wind spirits. I don’t know why on either account. Maybe it is because I grew up in Arizona and have a great deal of respect for Native American cultures, especially those found in Arizona: the Hopi, Maricopa, Mohave, Navajo, White Mountain Apache, Yavapai, Zuni and about a dozen more. Maybe it is just the romantic side of me believing that there is a bigger plan in the world than just mine. Whatever the reason, I found myself finally getting around to repairing the three wind chimes that the winter winds had blown off the trees and sent crashing to the ground in various states of disrepair.
The first chime was without a doubt the worst of the bunch. Straightening the many lines holding the chimes was akin to untangling the knots of three fishing rods tangled together…no, better make that six fishing rods since there are six tubes. The chimes are nothing more than pieces of pipe. They are suspended in animation by fishing line attached to a star shaped piece of wood. The dinger is a clear glass insulator from a telephone pole, the kind you can never find in one piece if it has fallen off. There are two wind catchers; both are wood. One is heart shaped and the other is shaped like the state of Texas. The chime is substantial and probably weighs between eighteen and twenty pounds. It was made by someone in my wife’s family, and we have carted it around and hung it and repaired it for at least a decade. I suppose its deep, mellow sound comes from its size and weight. It has been carefully hung in a tree near the goat shed, and I like to think the chimes at night sooth them like a cowboy singing to cattle.
The second chime was given to me by my mother, who bought it at Frank Lloyd Wright’s winter home, Taliesin West, in Scottsdale, Arizona sometime in the sixties. I suspect it was expensive since all the pieces have turned bluish-green with age. For whatever reason, this chime has only five tubes, and each one was filled with spider webs and dirt. Insects (arachnids too) seem to love the cozy, protected space inside wind chime tubes. The tubes were easy to untangle and easy to clean out. A single strand of baling wire and a piece of knotted cloth attached to the end made short work of the process. Until I find the wind catcher that blew off its mooring, I am using a piece of light weight tin fashioned in the same shape which is sort of twisted on each side. This chime also has a mellow sound to it, but it is the sound of church bells; it’s a crisp sound, and it does not carry as far as the bigger, heavier chime. I hung it on the east side of the property, near the deep woods. The sound reminds me of home, the past and all that should be right in the world. It’s a spiritual sound, and I like to think of it as lullaby for my soul.
The third chime is absolutely nothing very special. The five aluminum tubes are just a little bigger than the diameter of a crayon, but they too were clogged with who knows what. Cleaning the insides was done with the wire and then the sharp blast of the air hose. The wooden dinger was replaced this year with a heavy steel washer mounted on the end of four inch piece of half inch PVC pipe. The wind catcher is also a piece of tin, left over and salvaged from my shop that was built last year. The sound is high pitched and tinny; it’s the tinkling sound that demands attention, but it also has a pleasant dancing sound to it. I hung it again near the back door,above the butterfly garden and near the humming bird feeder. I like to think that it inspires those fragile creatures to return each morning to start their day.
I do believe in wind spirts. I cannot see them of course, only the effects of their movement through the pasture and the trees, but I can hear them while they play the instruments that I have lovingly hung near the trails where they travel.
Native American Symbol For Wind