Restoring the Chime

A mute bamboo wind chime hung motionless beneath the cedar trellis. Climbing the wooden bench, I paused to survey the tangle. One thick hollow cylinder had swung high and hitched over the suspension ring, pinning the center wooden clapper against the frame. I did not shake the cord. Bracing my heels against the warm cedar plank, I grasped the suspended tube with both hands. With steady, upward leverage, I lifted the notched lip past the brass loop and eased it down into open space. Released, the bamboo swung clean, striking the striker with a deep, resonant knock before settling back into balance.