I have a thing about time.
I am a clock-watcher.
I have to know the time at any given moment.
Day or night.
I didn't realize just how bad I was until I was in hospital after the birth of our third son.
He was born at 9:30 in the evening and I was so keyed up that I couldn't sleep.
All night long.
I'm sure you've heard people say, “It was the longest night of my life.”
Well, that night was.
I kept listening for stirrings that would indicate the coming of day.
But in a hospital, in a maternity ward, there are constant stirrings.
Sigh.
From that day to this, I have made sure that I have some sort of time-keeper handy.
Always.
Moving on . . .
For all of his life, Daddy was a rancher.
He was good at it.
After retirement, he poured his energy and meticulous nature into the making of clocks.
Beautiful, inlaid, hand-crafted, gently-chiming clocks.
Which he then sold.
Many to me.
At one time, I had six of them.
They, together with my tall grandfather's clock, adorned various parts of my living room.
Even their ticking was noticeable.
When they collectively chimed the quarter hours and then the hours, it was pretty nearly deafening.
I loved it.
Had gotten so accustomed to it that I often don't even notice.
Sort of like living next to a set of very busy train tracks.
Sort of.
Oh, I had comments.
“It sounds like a clock shop in here!”
“I feel like I'm in some sort of creepy movie!”
Okay, I'm not sure that the person who made that last statement was totally talking about the clocks.
Ahem . . .
And my favourite, “Could someone please tell me the correct time. I think it just chimed forty-two in here!”
Hey. Love me, love my clocks.
Get over it.
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| Details |
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| My first purchase in walnut and purple heart |
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| One of the newest in walnut and maple |
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| More details in Rocky Mountain Juniper |
There is a codicil:
At the age of 89, failing health forced many changes for Daddy. The first was the giving up of his beloved workroom. There were no more clocks from those gifted hands.
Then, a year later, he went home.
Suddenly, my collection took on a whole new meaning.
I am so with you, girl! So with you.
ReplyDeleteOh my these clocks are just beautiful! I love clocks..and I still wear a watch...a regular watch!
ReplyDeleteTreasures.
ReplyDeleteI don't always have to know the time, but I can usually estimate the time within 15 mins or so of the correct time.
ReplyDeleteI love living with physical memories in my home that I can look at daily.
I love your clock collection simply because it means so much to you.
:) gwingal
They are gorgeous, Diane, and a wonderful tribute to your dad's talent.
ReplyDeletePrecious treasures.
ReplyDeleteThey are beautiful, Diane. I imagine they are precious to you, every single one. I love to hear clocks ticking; I'm not sure about chiming forty-two o'clock though!
ReplyDeleteI love how my girls are growing up with chiming clocks. Even though we get the odd comment from visitors the second or third time the clock chimes.
ReplyDeleteThe clocks are beautiful, your dad was an artist. I spent many years knowing exactly what the time was without having to look at nay clocks or watches. That time has passed and now I wear a watch if I'm going to be away from home, so I don't miss the bus to get back.
ReplyDeleteI love chiming clocks and the history of them - but I hate the tick tick tick when all's quiet - it gets on my OCD nerves - so I'd probably go crazy in your house after a while! Nice that you enjoy them though.
ReplyDelete