Yay! And liked the piece, strong voice.Made me think of jam jars with things in them a bit though.
Powerful stuff, Rachel . Congratulations.
Funny you should say that, JoAnne....:) Inspiration comes in many forms.Thanks!Many thanks, Elisabeth :)
I clicked on this expecting a post about how your soldering iron was feeling neglected.I know what you mean (I think) about bottles applauding the recycling bin. The sound wakes me up every other Friday morning when the lorry comes round to collect.
That would make a great story, Dominic - got me thinking about flux now too....Yes, that was the experience of applauding bottles I was thinking about - suburban theatrics...Thanks for reading, always look forward to your insights/comments.
I think I am missing many of the references in this piece of fiction, Rachel. Tui is a New Zealand bird? I have been learning, see? The story kind of reminds me of my childhood summers spent in my grandparent's village in another corner of the world, though.
Tui is indeed a bird, Lori, but it's also a brand of beer. (Spirit bird?)Did your grandparents have cicadas? Hope the story's a good reminder of their garden?Thanks for reading it :)
Oh, see, I did research to see if any kind of edible item is also called Tui, but didn't stumble upon that information. Thanks for clarifying. And no, I don't think we had cicadas, but we did have long summers spent playing in the dirt, following with unbounded interest all the bugs and beetles and stopping them in their tracks. It is that feeling the story reminded me of. But now that you tell me the insect in question is the cicada, which seems to be a very interesting creature indeed, the it all starts to make sense even for me. Oh, Rachel, I am so sorry I need a whole addendum to understand your writing. You clearly need smarter readers than I am.
You're a perfectly fine and intelligent reader, Lori!I loved digging in the garden and watching bugs at my grandparents' house too as a kid. I used to pick the caterpillars off the nasturtiums and put them on the path for the birds! Yuck when I think of that now.
Growing up, there was a boy in my neighborhood who used to sit for HOURS patiently cutting the head, the thorax, and the gaster of tiny ants apart....."...boil the lot of them." Infantile arcane rituals. Love 'em.Your drawings and your style of writing belong in the New Yorker magazine.
My elder brother, I know, was skilled at cross transplanting the parts of grasshoppers with bees, Kass....But you can apparently eat cicadas :) The New Yorker's on my wish list of publishing credits - if only!Thanks for the compliment though.
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