“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair”
― Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet
Hanging on a rusty old pole at the foot of the Secret Stairway are battered bamboo wind chimes that I bought many decades ago. One of the chimes is missing, long since wrenched off in a storm.
The clapper is also missing, replaced by a handmade trowel created by one of my children in school metal work class many years ago.
Even indoors I can hear their chime like a mindfulness bell calling my attention to the present and reminding me of my own version of the Zen koan ‘what is the sound of one hand clapping?’ Sitting in my very first garden one summers day a gentle breeze sprang up and rustled through the willow tree and I wondered ‘what does the wind sound like where there are no trees?‘
I’m still wondering yet.