I love this clock. It was given to me by,Julia, a 92 year old lady from my church. She's long gone now, but I think of her and my grandfather everytime it speaks its mind. My grandfather had a clock like hers, my grandmother hated it. I loved it. When I was a little girl I was drawn to the clock. Sophie, my grandmother, always said it was broken. But one day while she was at the store, my grandfather wound it up and moved the hands until the little bird came out singing. I never snitched on him. Their clock was prettier then this one with an elk with antlers,acorns and of course leaves and flowers.
I volunteered to visit shutins at my church, and that is how I got to know Julia. We became friends quickly. I told her about the clock. "Oh, my clock hasn't worked in years" she told me. I've heard that before I said to myself. One day out of the blue she told me to take it down off the wall...it was mine. I protested. But she would have it no other way. When I got it home...guess what? It worked. But, my DH hated the cuckoo bird. So he gagged him. Me and cuckoo had to have our tryst while he was at work.
Now it hangs in my laundry room and he is free to sing his head off. I love this clock. But I had my revenge in a little poem I wrote one day:
`It's Time
Sometimes we argue
about the smallest things,
like having too many clocks.
I love them and their ways,
working only when wound,
speaking when they want to,
not caring about their neighbors' time.
Yes, the smallest things, like today
when he went on and on about a choice I made,
and the clock in the kitchen said, "CUCKOO".
Oh, the eloquence of clocks.
