![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
That Texas tone
Aug. 22nd, 2005 05:10 pmMy current audiobook, clamped to my ears as I do my run, is Barbara Kingsolver reading her own novel "Prodigal Summer". I'm maybe a third of the way through and it is a wonderful story of relationships in Appalachia.
But the best part is Barbara's accent. According to her website, it's Kentucky, Indiana and Arizona, but for me, it's Texas, or more specifically Lisa Wingate and TexasWren, that rolling, melodious flow of words, syllables drawn out, stretch into two, music to the ears.
I think back to those few brief days in Fort Worth with every sentence, even though the story is several states away.
And no, I haven't forgotten Squirty Bertie. I've recently been in a hospital, and I took notes on what the place looked like, what items of equipment I could find in the corridors, what places and things were called, what people did. It's one thing to visit someone and comment on the view out the window, quite another to look around and fit it all into a story. Every detail has to be interesting, a plot device, a piece of colour.
I got a good view out the window at one stage. I couldn't quite see Blues Point Tower, though I could see the rest of Sydney's inner-city buildings and the Bridge. I don't know if it's important that the two places be able to see each other, but it would be nice.
We've had a bit more rain over the weekend. So good to see! At this rate I'll have to drag out the lawn mower and trim the sadly shabby back lawn. What's left of it.
I had an encounter with my friend the cockatoo this morning. There's one lone sulphur-crested cockatoo comes around and does his level best to destroy my bird feeder. He sits on the dowel holding it away from the eaves, grabs hold of the frame and lifts it up, hoping to slide it off the hook and send it crashing down, birdseed, bowl and all. I've put a screw over the hook opening and secured it with wire, so he'd have to work at it, but he's a determined bugger, so I generally go out to confront him and shoo him off. Sometimes the lurch of him leaving his perch is enough to unhook the dowel from where it is wedged under the tiles and down it comes anyway.
He's gotten bolder. I open the door and look at him, and instead of flying away, he rears up, spreads his great wings, erects his yellow crest and glares at me. He did it this morning, and I was so close I could have touched him, if I'd been willing to risk that sharp and strong beak embedded in my hand, so I backed away to get my camera for an extreme close up in his glory. And as I came out, that's when he flew off.
The dowel stayed in place, but the jerk as he took off bounced the seed bowl out of the frame and it clattered to the ground, leaving a little hill of sunflower seeds beneath.
Perhaps a little aggravating, but I do like getting up close to such a magnificent bird!
And the other parrots came around during the rest of the day and ate their fill.
But the best part is Barbara's accent. According to her website, it's Kentucky, Indiana and Arizona, but for me, it's Texas, or more specifically Lisa Wingate and TexasWren, that rolling, melodious flow of words, syllables drawn out, stretch into two, music to the ears.
I think back to those few brief days in Fort Worth with every sentence, even though the story is several states away.
And no, I haven't forgotten Squirty Bertie. I've recently been in a hospital, and I took notes on what the place looked like, what items of equipment I could find in the corridors, what places and things were called, what people did. It's one thing to visit someone and comment on the view out the window, quite another to look around and fit it all into a story. Every detail has to be interesting, a plot device, a piece of colour.
I got a good view out the window at one stage. I couldn't quite see Blues Point Tower, though I could see the rest of Sydney's inner-city buildings and the Bridge. I don't know if it's important that the two places be able to see each other, but it would be nice.
We've had a bit more rain over the weekend. So good to see! At this rate I'll have to drag out the lawn mower and trim the sadly shabby back lawn. What's left of it.
I had an encounter with my friend the cockatoo this morning. There's one lone sulphur-crested cockatoo comes around and does his level best to destroy my bird feeder. He sits on the dowel holding it away from the eaves, grabs hold of the frame and lifts it up, hoping to slide it off the hook and send it crashing down, birdseed, bowl and all. I've put a screw over the hook opening and secured it with wire, so he'd have to work at it, but he's a determined bugger, so I generally go out to confront him and shoo him off. Sometimes the lurch of him leaving his perch is enough to unhook the dowel from where it is wedged under the tiles and down it comes anyway.
He's gotten bolder. I open the door and look at him, and instead of flying away, he rears up, spreads his great wings, erects his yellow crest and glares at me. He did it this morning, and I was so close I could have touched him, if I'd been willing to risk that sharp and strong beak embedded in my hand, so I backed away to get my camera for an extreme close up in his glory. And as I came out, that's when he flew off.
The dowel stayed in place, but the jerk as he took off bounced the seed bowl out of the frame and it clattered to the ground, leaving a little hill of sunflower seeds beneath.
Perhaps a little aggravating, but I do like getting up close to such a magnificent bird!
And the other parrots came around during the rest of the day and ate their fill.
