The windchime sits on the back porch, quiet unless a strong wind comes from the South. Even then, the music the spoons make is soft and dreamy. I forget about them a lot.

We’ve had these chimes for a long time. I briefly had a border collie named Emma that we gave to people we met at an Open House. I can’t remember their name.

She had been abandoned and needed a home, along with Izzy, who we adopted, and ours wasn’t the right one for her.

These two spent the day running in circles around a fence; they had dug a ditch along the dance big enough to fall into and had claws like talons. Izzy came out of it and became my first therapy dog; he was all heart. He was my dog from the second I saw him.

The couple took her in – she had a lot of health issues and had been living alone for a long time – and they kept and loved her until she died. They gave us these chimes made by the woman’s father to thank us. They’ve been hanging ever since. They are graceful.

Like the music they make, these chimes are beautiful and gentle. They always make me think about the generosity and kindness of people. Dogs seem to bring that out. Their love for people can overcome almost anything, even when the people don’t deserve it.