If life was more poetic, or just less real, Bill Doll would live one block east of where he does.

Little about Doll's life fits well in verse, though, unless you count some limericks you might have heard. He's a tough old bird with a good heart who wears his shirt unbuttoned on hot days and isn't scared to crack a can of beer at 10 a.m. if the mood strikes. He is a tree trimmer by trade. His face is always partially in profile, but he never stops looking you in the eye. It would be off-putting, except for his constant smile and good nature.

Anyway, if there was more poetry in Doll's life, he would live about a hundred yards away from where he does. That would put him on Bell Street. It would be more appropriate than his address on Turnpike Avenue.

You've probably looked at Doll's yard without even knowing it. His is the one with all the bells in it that you can see from the interstate, just west of the Washington Street overpass.

He and his wife, Vira, have collected 135 bells that used to sound the hour in church steeples and old country schools across North Dakota and much of the rest of the country.

They have big bells and small bells, cracked ones and mint ones. They all have clappers. The neighbors know when it's windy.

Bill Doll is 68 now. He's been collecting bells for 20 years. It's time to stop.

He and Vira want to sell them. All of them. Just make an offer.

They've got some good stuff in their yard. The original two cast-iron bells from St. Joseph's Catholic Church in Mandan sit beside the Dolls' house. A cool old train bell is mounted on a pole in the backyard. Vira's favorites are the bronze ones from the mid-1800s.

The first bell they bought, from a man in Moffit, is still there. So is the last one, which they purchased a couple of years ago from a neighbor lady.

"The first 10 years, the going was good," Vira Doll said. "You don't hardly see one around anymore. Maybe we bought them all."

She said the couple started collecting bells accidentally. They went to auctioneer school and got their auctioneer's license as a way to make money in the winter, when the tree-trimming business isn't so good.

"We didn't really have a love for antiques or anything; we just did it to make some money," Vira Doll said. "I remember after we got that first bell, it just looked so good in the yard. That's probably how it started. We found more and more bells, and then people with bells started finding us."

Along the way, their house filled with other items.

There are 400 frying pans and 250 pieces of crock ware.

That's just in the garage. The house - which was crafted with several built-ins for the Dolls' many collections - contains rooms full of clocks and guns and cookie jars.

When they decided it was time to scale back, the most conspicuous collection (and, with tens of thousands of dollars invested, likely the most expensive one) was the first to go on the block.

"We've got to down-size. It's sad, but it's time to put the bells up for sale," Vira Doll said. "We'd like to sell them all locally, to give people around here the first crack at getting them back."

The Dolls realize the bell does not toll for everyone, and that sales may not be brisk. So in the meantime, people are still welcome to come over and check out the collection. There has been no shortage of drop-in traffic in the last two decades, and Vira Doll still leads Cub Scouts around the yard from time to time.

"The biggest thing we'll miss is the people stopping by," she said. "They see the bells on the interstate and find their way over here. We had people over taking pictures just the other day."

If you'd like to check out the collection, take Washington Street to Turnpike Avenue, then one block west of Bell Street. Or call the Dolls at 255-1035.