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About a half mile up the drive, the road forked, and she pointed to the right. “My place is down that road.”
I frowned as I maneuvered the old ford to the right. “How exactly did you get into town today?”
She looked over at me happily. “Oh, I just called the bus. They will pick you up at your house if you are a senior citizen. It’s really nice that they do that, since I don’t think I would ever be able to make it up this driveway. It’s just a shame the ride takes so darn long.”
I sighed in relief. Here I had been picturing the frail stooped form of this old woman trying to walk the entire length of the driveway, which I knew now must be more than a mile, easily. The gravel driveway ended at a gravel round-about in front of a quaint old-style cabin home. The house was small, and I guessed it was only a one or two bedroom, but its rustic cabin and stone look was charming. There was a small porch that surrounded the entire home, and I was startled to find out that Mrs. Blumberry seemed to have an obsession with wind chimes. They hung from every available space along the roof, and came in all shapes, sizes and colors.
“That’s quite a lovely collection of wind chimes you have, Mrs. Blumberry.”
She looked over at me, smiling in obvious pride. “Why, thank you, Callie. Come on child, I’ll give you a tour.”
Her enthusiasm was so enchanting, I couldn’t help myself. I nodded in agreement and hurried around to help her from the truck, afraid she might fall out of it and break a hip.
With a small, blue veined hand on my arm, she directed me toward the house. “I know it seems like a bit much, but I promise you there’s a story behind this all.” She sent me a child-like smile as she continued. “My husband and I liked to travel. I always loved the sound of windchimes, so everywhere we went, my Elmer would search high and low for a shop that sold wind chimes. We tried to find ones that reflected the place we were, but if we couldn’t find one, he would etch it on them when we got home. Elmer, you see, was a wood worker. He made furniture, knickknacks, all sorts of things.”
I found myself smiling at the story, and the obvious bond between her and her husband. As we climbed the porch stairs, I became aware of a dog barking. Mrs. Blumberry unlocked her door, and an old golden retriever hobbled out, wagging her tail and curling back her lips in what appeared to be a snarl, but I realized quickly, was actually a smile.
“This is Sandy. Don’t let her hideous snarl fool you, she’s just as sweet as can be.” She leaned down, patting the dog affectionately on the head, and the love oozed from the dog.
In fact, I didn’t need physical contact to be buffeted by her strong emotions for the woman, which was a surprise to me. Pretending I didn’t feel anything odd, I turned to scan some of the chimes. One in particular caught my attention in front of me, and I stepped up to it in order to take a closer look. The chime was made from long slender wooden tubes, and on the top, a faded hula dancer with leis about her neck swayed in the breeze as a soft melody rustled through the wooden tubes. Across the tubes, the words, Hawaii nineteen-ninety were etched skillfully.
Smiling, I asked, “You went to Hawaii? Ive always wanted to go there one day. To see the beaches and the luau’s and everything.”
“We went for two weeks, and it was amazing. Elmer took me for my birthday. It is worth seeing, Callie. It was spectacular.”
We wandered about the porch, me taking in all the different wind chimes from all over the world, and Mrs. Blumberry filling me in on all the adventures and stories from her time with her husband. I heard the sadness in her voice, but when I’d look at her, she was smiling. I wondered how old she was.
“When did you stop teaching?”
She smiled sadly as she led me to the back of the porch. “About ten years ago. My Elmer passed that summer, and I just didn’t have the heart to keep going. Besides, I was already getting old. I did do some subbing here and there to get my mind off things, but mostly, I stayed here, working in my garden.”
At the mention of a garden, I looked away from her face, following her gaze, and I gasped at what I saw. The back of the property was expansive, and everywhere you looked, there were beds filled with lush and exotic flowers, trees, and pathways leading through trellised arches. To the right, a large guesthouse, or something stood. It had been built to mimic the house. She caught the direction of my attention, and she stepped gingerly down the stairs.
“Come Callie. I’ll show you. Elmer had that built the year we moved here. I’ll introduce you to the kids.”
I gave her a perplexed look, not sure what she meant by the kids. As I trailed behind her, I noticed wire surrounded the little miniature cabin. Once we got closer, I heard the unmistakable sound of chickens, and I smiled, but what greeted me wasn’t at all what I expected. A little black ball of…something came barreling from the cabin-like chicken coop, and I was at a complete loss. It was a chicken, I was pretty sure, but then, as I looked at it, I shook my head.
Mrs. Blumberry bent down and scooped the small bird into her arms, cooing at it as though it were a baby. “This is Velvet. She’s my favorite hen.” When she looked up at me, finding my faced wreathed in surprise, she laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry, you are probably wondering what this is. She’s a frizzle.”
I coughed and laughed at the same time. “Sorry, a whatzle?”
“No, no Callie, a F-r-i-z-z-l-e…” she pronounced each syllable as though I were back in kindergarten.
“Oh, a Frizzle. So, it’s some kind of chicken?”
She chuckled. “Yes. Their feathers grow backwards, or curly. I have always loved these. They have so much personality. The others are Silkies.”
When I looked up, about ten other small fluffy chickens had meandered from the coop, their colors ranging from white, gray and red. I laughed at them, both amused and fascinated. “Well, they are certainly unusual. Your garden is absolutely stunning. I don’t know how you keep this all up.”
Mrs. Blumberry smiled. “Well, it was easier before. Mat comes by once a week and gives me a hand in the garden though, so I’m grateful for him. Such a nice boy.”
I smiled to know some youngster was kind enough to come help the old woman out. “Well, I had better get going. I’m really glad I ran into you Mrs. Blumberry. Can I leave you my cell number, that way if you need anything you can call me?”
Her face brightened, and she put the chicken back on the ground and walked toward the house, calling over her shoulder, “That would be so kind of you. Callie, you were such a sweet and special child, and I’m so happy to learn you’ve stayed that way as an adult. Would you like to come for tea? Perhaps Thursday would be a good day?”
I could find no reason why I shouldn’t come for a visit and tea. I could only imagine she probably got lonely out here all alone. “I would love to, although I think next week would probably work better, as I’ve just gotten home, and my family will want me around this week.”
Once I’d written my cell number and my parents’ house number in her little blue contact book, I gave the sweet old woman a hug, and then hopped back into my old Ford and headed back up the driveway. Pulling out my cell phone, I dialed my best friend’s number, heading toward her house and hoping she would be home. I had certainly had an interesting day, and I was looking forward to a reunion with my bestie.
