The meaning of wind chimes and quiddle

The wind chimes sounded my first night at this house. 

I was worried maybe they would chime all the time. But they didn't. It has to be quite windy. They are heavy and somewhat blocked by tall bushes and the house. 

It's not that I dislike them, but light wind chimes can be overpowering, tinkling at the lightest breeze. 

So I heard them that first night and wondered if they'd be a constant companion. 

They only chime occasionally, which is delightful, because you forget about them until you hear them again. 

They are sounding tonight, on one of my last nights in this house. It's somehow poetic (or ironic?) that what worried me actually became a pleasant sound. 

It makes me think back about where I was at when I came here. I've grown and changed at each of my house sitting locations since this early spring. I'm getting to know myself, which is marvelous. I'm so grateful my friends offered me these opportunities. It has been wonderful to have my own space — even if it belongs to someone else. 

I've learned a lot and come to enjoy my solitude. Don't get me wrong. I love and crave time with my friends and family. But I'm learning I like my own company, too. I don't have to have every minute packed and accounted for. I can change my mind. I can read. I can think. I can write. I can quiddle. (It's a Susie Dent word meaning to waste time in trifling employments. Isn't that a great word?)

The wind chimes tonight are a reminder of where I was and where I am. 

I'm so grateful.