Earlier this summer, my Darlin'Man found this lovely, half buried and rusting out in the 'garden' (by which I mean the slope o' brush that will *hopefully next year be a pig pen and then for the decade or two to follow will be the main food production garden).
Its an old, big, heavy, iron triangle.
He showed it to me and at once I fell in love. I've always dreamt of being the frontiers-wife who calls in her menfolk and childrenfolk to dinner from hayfields and woods. I'd rather thought a dinner bell would be a bell, but the instant I saw this lovely, I realized just how wrong I'd been. Obviously, the dinner bell is a triangle. A loud clanging one at that! The past week or so, he's been stacking wood while I make dinner after work, and so I've gotten to use it to call him in - bonus: the noise is enough to break through even his really nice headphones :-)
Do you know that feeling that is part present joy and part nostalgia and part future anticipation and part dream satisfaction all rolled into one? Thats what I feel each time I ring the triangle.