Rowan Tree and Red Thread

At my in-laws house I sit on the old bench at the side of the house enjoying the half-forgotten sunshine and watching Rowan wander about the garden. The gentle tapping of old bamboo wind chimes draws my attention briefly before Rowan calls me to marvel at the pie she's made from sand, leaves and flowers.

The chimes are suddenly loud, caught in a gust. "Only wind" says Rowan, wisely.