December 8 – A GIFT HUNG, HELD, HEARD
I am thankful for this clock, which was a handmade gift from Tony’s dad, Bill English. He enjoys clock making and many other creative woodworking ventures. We don’t get to see him very often, so it is extra special, especially to Tony. It does hourly chimes and often is set to special occasion tunes such as birthdays, etc. This family clock has marked many days, hours and minutes, even seasons, and is now gracing us with its presence in a second home since it was given to us. We get so used to the sounds, we hardly even notice them, but sometimes we have to turn off the chimes for family staying over, not being used to the sounds in the night stillness. It had a farm picture in it, but our daughter-in-law, Amber, used her talent with calligraphy to switch it to a garden theme.
I ran across this quaint little clock poem.
The Watchmaker’ Shop ~
A street in our town has a queer little shop
With tumble – down walls and a thatch on the top;
and all the wee windows with crookedy panes
are shining and winking with watches and chains.
all sorts and all sizes, in silver and gold,
and brass ones and tin ones, and new ones and old;
and clocks for the kitchen, and clocks for the hall,
high ones and low ones, and wag -at -the -wall
The watchmaker sits on a long-legged seat
and bids you the time of the day when you meet;
and round and about him there’s tickety-tock
from the tiniest watch to the grandfather clock.
I wonder he doesn’t get tired of the chime
and all the clocks ticking and telling the time;
But there he goes winding lest any should stop,
This queer little man in the watchmaker’s shop.