It's called the music house. Wind chimes hang all around the front of the porch. And more hang in the back.
Dozens of them in metal, wood, and one rumored to be glass. They twinkle and jingle quite merrily when the wind comes to play.
Some days it's a soft lullaby. Others it's a jangling chorus. But even on the stillest of days, one is always making a sound.
One in particular stays eerily quiet. The one that looks of glass. A friend once asked me why it never chimed like the others. I simply smiled and replied that the right wind hadn't come around yet.
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