Lukewarm Living
Tick, tock, tick, tock. Each pendulum swinging in sync as each gear turns precisely.
Collecting spring wound clocks was my passion. They sat on mantels, tables and hung on the walls of our home. Each passing hour was welcomed by a symphony of melodic chimes-each with its unique bong, musical song or clucking cuckoo.
Nights were the same, but we grew accustomed to the tick tock and only awakened if they stopped. It was different for visitors who often remarked; “How do you sleep with all those clocks chiming?” Read more...
Collecting spring wound clocks was my passion. They sat on mantels, tables and hung on the walls of our home. Each passing hour was welcomed by a symphony of melodic chimes-each with its unique bong, musical song or clucking cuckoo.
Nights were the same, but we grew accustomed to the tick tock and only awakened if they stopped. It was different for visitors who often remarked; “How do you sleep with all those clocks chiming?” Read more...
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