The Family Gathering At The Russell Family

Four have already left home, one will leave soon and the other three still dwell in the house with her. She then begins to express the dangers of the world around her in a bird’s point of view. For example, she is afraid that her young will fall in a fowler’s snare, be caught in a net or by birdlime on twigs, or hurt by a hawk. In a human world a fowler’s snare might be fallings into the hands of trickery, robbery, or any other type of crime. Caught by net or birdlime might represent being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and a hawk-inflicted injury might symbolize being wounded or killed by an Indian or criminal.

At seven in the morning, the voice-clock wakes the McClellan family. At eight-one, Mr. and Mrs. McClellan go to work, while their children go to school. At nine-fifteen, “tiny robot mice” (Bradbury np) darts out of the “warrens in the walls” (Bradbury np) and cleans the house. At ten-fifteen, the garden sprinklers “[fills] the garden with falling light” (Bradbury np). At two thirty-five, “bridge tables [sprouts] from patio walls” (Bradbury np) and “playing cards [flutters] onto pads in a shower of pips” (Bradbury np). At four o’clock, the bridge tables fold back again through the paneled walls. At four-thirty, films play at the nursery for children’s hour. At five, “the bath [fills] with clear hot water” (Bradbury np). From six to eight, dinner, washing plates from dinner, and smoking the cigar, happen. At nine, the family’s beds are warmed. At nine-five, a voice box reads a poem for Mrs. McClellan. These are the things that the family underwent every day when they were still alive.

She sat on the fence surrounding her pigeon shelter with her scrawny legs dangling over the edge. She observed the pigeon’s short stubby beak as it tilted its dainty head this way and that. She looked into its black onyx beads and watched her favourite pigeon trying to lay her first egg. With her homework at hand, she eagerly kicked back and forth, overjoyed that the long – awaited day had finally come. The pigeon, with little success, tried to let the egg out. The setting sun casted the trees in their virescent hues of early spring. Papery and delicate leaves sway to the rhythm of the wind. After some time, a thunderous noise reverberated over the serene setting and set the bomb alarms wailing. The uproar alarmed both her and her pigeon, forcing the pigeon to release her first egg onto the coop’s muddy floor and it broke – the bombing had started

The men had come into Glensberg to find Arthurs's Uncle who, they were told, was assisting his wife with the shopping. The men hadn't seen him yet - but there was no rush. The magpie was singing, nothing else mattered at all at this moment; that, and the tiny, little girl with the ruby hair who was sitting with her father - both enchanted by the melodic singings of the birds.

Soon the men began to gather. Surveying their own children, speaking of planting and rain, tractors and taxes. They stood together, away from the pile of stones in the corner, and their jokes were quiet and they smiled rather than laughed. The women, wearing faded house dresses and sweaters, came shortly after their menfolk.(1)

I made my way to my aunt’s house. Her home smelled of fresh cut pine, and she offered me a cup of coffee with a cinnamon stick in it. I accepted, and we went to the kitchen table and discussed our week. As she talked, I looked out her kitchen table. A small oak grew in the front yard. Snow capped the birdfeeder beside her bird bath.

Family leaves the deepest wounds. Whether a parent or a great-aunt’s step-child; family should love and support no matter what, so naturally arguments and conflicts within families leave harsher scars. Families shape one’s relationship with everyone – siblings, friends, and superiors. In Jim Grimsley’s Winter Birds, the narrator conveys his attitude towards his family as protective, despite disapproval through his use of figurative language, and a second person point of view.

The fluffy, snowflake white clouds play tag in the intensely blue sky. The trees wave continuously, while their bodies remained still. The birds chirped, loudly, outside the clear, old window of the unnecessarily blue antique house that everyone assumed was strange. No one assumed anything strange about the house owners with one daughter, who was naturally spoiled to the core. No one thought anything about her, or how she had an endless amount of shoes and clothes. Not how she never wore the same clothes twice, ever, her name was Katie Brooks, her mother’s name was Moringa Brooks, and finally, the most important of all, her father’s name was Peterson Brooks. Mr. Brooks may not seem important now, but he is, you’ll see. He was actually the

It was a quite a normal fall day out here in Louisiana. The year was 1930, my daughter and I had been out working in the barnyard. “Lauren, work faster the guest will be here soon for Thanksgiving dinner.” I exclaimed to Lauren as she was cleaning the pigsty. Soon we were to have our family and friends come to visit us for Thanksgiving. I don’t necessarily like having guest, since they’re always a lot of cleaning do. Actually, cleaning wasn’t the problem since we lived in a very small house out in the country. The problem was food was very scarce for us, so we worked extremely hard. You see, out here in Louisiana it wasn’t easy to be wealthy so half of the town was what you would call ‘poor’.We can’t provide them with a lot of food,

Unique Family Structures Displayed in Who Has Seen The Wind and To Set Our House in Order

I look upon the grey clock, hanging on the white wall. The burning ember lit upon the five candles above us, suspended in a gold-plated chandelier. Never having been in such an opulent restaurant, I didn’t know what to expect. The grey clock was abnormal, almost paranormal. It was seemingly rotating slower by the second. In fact, everything around me was strangely out of place. The towering slender women and the short rotund

You may have already been contacted by your mom or dad. I’m writing to you tonight for a family need. The need is a “Williams” family reunion. The time is right for this. None of us know how much longer we will be around. We need to start this for our Williams family heritage. It’s time that we all take the time and come together for our family love for our kids. They can learn about the Williams family so they can pass it along to their kids. I’m putting myself out there to form a Williams’s family reunion. We have family members that have never met one another. I for one have never met Roberts’s wife or his kids and Theresa or Audrey’s kids. Since we grew up vacationing on the north coast. It would be nice if we all went

Bradstreet evokes the imagery of a family of birds with “cocks” and “hens” as a description for her children. When I think of a bird family, loyalty, duty, commitment, pride, loving, protector are all adjectives that spring to mind. Her prose, spills her educational background across the pages in the manner in which her metaphors narrate the history of her children. The oldest get married and fly away. The pain of childbearing and childrearing summed up in 8 words, “I nursed them up with pain and care” (p 239). The commonality of birds and how their behavioral habits to sit on the nest until the offspring are hatched, feeding and keeping predators at bay single handedly it is a perfect comparison to her situation with her husband often

Mary was ”fed up” with Bob and his bird watching hobby. Before we left the house, he had to put on his old beat up the t-shirt with the bird picture on it. Bob had to go to his favorite park every weekend. He sits on the uncomfortable bench. He would waste our good bread on those birds. He watches the birds soar in the clouded sky.

The fleeting changes that often accompany seasonal transition are especially exasperated in a child’s mind, most notably when the cool crisp winds of fall signal the summer’s end approaching. The lazy routine I had adopted over several months spent frolicking in the cool blue chlorine soaked waters of my family’s bungalow colony pool gave way to changes far beyond the weather and textbooks. As the surrounding foliage changed in anticipation of colder months, so did my family. My mother’s stomach grew larger as she approached the final days of her pregnancy and in the closing hours of my eight’ summer my mother gently awoke me from the uncomfortable sleep of a long car ride to inform of a wonderful surprise. No longer would we be returning