A hollow chime in the garden

I pushed through the screen door into the quiet afternoon, trotting along the soft grass toward the shady lilac shrub. Tucked in the damp earth sat a weathered clay garden bell tied with a knotted jute cord. I stood motionless for a quiet while, watching how the dappled sunlight played across its rough, terracotta curve. Stepping forward deliberately, I tapped its fluted rim with one soft front hoof. The little bell swung with a muffled, earthen clonk against an embedded stone, spinning gently before settling still in the damp loam.