A Ringing Harmony

Stepping out from home into the mellow afternoon, I followed the stone path to the tea garden's shaded veranda. Suspended from a wooden rafter was a set of carved bamboo chimes, their slender tubes silent because the braided cord of the wooden windcatcher had snagged over a rough vine tendril. Approaching with steady, graceful footing on the wide bench below, I reached up with both hands. With a patient, gentle slide of my fingertips, I eased the knotted twine free from the creeping stem. Released into the soft breeze, the striker swayed cleanly, coaxing a warm, hollow ring that rippled like gentle music through the quiet shade.