My kids are growing up with the sound of the village church bells tolling on the hour. The bells are the distant music that shapes their days, and the pink tower is the landmark that guides them back home from their adventures.
In our village, by tradition, the church bells toll the hours twice, five minutes apart: the first time to alert people working in the fields that it's time to count the strokes. It's a lovely sound that echoes along the valley, but when we first moved here Nicholas was afraid of it. He was afraid of all kinds of noises (except his own!). The poor little boy would walk around with his hands over his ears, never knowing when that sound might strike - not once, but twice!
To help him get over his fear, we started trying to interest him in the architecture of bell towers. We'd take him around to see different church towers in the area. We'd compare them, snap photos and add them to the little album of bell tower photos we'd started with him. It actually worked, and soon Nicholas became so interested in bells that he'd spot new towers everywhere, and we'd have to go and sit around until they rang on the hour: his earnest little head bent upwards not to miss the magic sight, his hands ... still cupped over his ears! He got so much into bells that a tape of church bell music we got for him played all day along in our house (available here in a more modern CD version: it's really amazing music if you like the sound of church bells on their own).
Nicholas hasn't listen to that tape in long time, but recently he took it out and played it for his little sister. And sometimes he'll play "Frère Jacques" for her on the piano. She's also growing up with the sound of bells, and Frère Jacques is a tune she can already hum on key.
I like to think that although we live in an isolated simple village, their childhood memories will be rooted in a sound that echoes with traditions and culture that are disappearing.
