Spring, well not really Spring, but the first Sunday in March means one thing to me -- Spring Forward -- where we lose an hour of sleep as we go from 2 a.m. to 3 a.m. I always set my bedside clock an hour ahead when I go to bed but the other clocks awaiting their "Springing Forward" until Sunday afternoon.
I have three fetishes -- chairs, lamps and clocks! I don't think of having a clock fetish and I certainly don't think about it but twice a year, I do remember that we have a lot of clocks! I must say that the easy adjustment is always the Spring one -- for you just run the hands forward an hour -- Fall, on the other hand, is a different story for you lose an hour and you have to be patient with the antique clocks.
This afternoon, I made sure that all of Linderhof's clocks were keeping correct time (the phones, computer and television/Dish box all reset themselves.)
The banjo floor clock in the dining room
The old mantle clock in the living room
Aunt Pearl's grandfather clock in the living room
The sweet little wooden clock in the living room
The carriage clock in the bathroom
The guest room clock
The wee carriage clock on Husband Jim's chest
The Waterford clock on my dressing table
My parent's wedding present clock on the bedroom mantle
The carriage clock on my bedside table
The real wind-up carriage clock in the sunroom
(the rest of the carriage clocks are "faux" -- but I do so love the look!)
But there is one clock that I never worry about
It isn't a self-setting (atomic) clock
But one of our antique ones
But one that doesn't run
And so it sits on the dining room mantle
Pretending to keep time
(and twice a day, it does!)
And old French clock with a porcelain dial.
And I should get it fixed!
It does keep me busy, these clocks of Linderhof, on this second Sunday in March. But I couldn't think of living without them. I love the chimes of the antique ones -- especially the Westminster chimes of the grandfather and my parent's wedding clock.
So although it's a chore it's really a labor of love -- tending to these clocks. As I tend them weekly, when I wind them and they pay me back -- in spades -- with chimes and dongs of the hour and when the house is quiet of ticks and tocks.