Gift of a Yellow Hammock

Marigold was in no mood to hear the nasal pitch of her younger sister Nina's pinched vocality, nor did Marigold wish to wake to the late-twenty-something sound of Nina's friends chirping to reveal their glee, grating to Marigold's otherwise generous nerves. 

In an effort to find some elusive par value, Marigold gifted her sister a yellow hammock with the goal of relaxing the sharp nasal pinch unmatched to Marigold's own speech and song, having putting a little bass in it, in stark contrast to the clench of Nina's nose when she spoke. 

The gift of a yellow hammock weathered Marigold's modicum of guilt for being the better equipped and more mature sister for handling the Sturm und Drang of life among family and friends, so named for the ill-fated joining requisite to family membership that Marigold felt obliged to endure. 

Marigold had tried out the hammock and felt momentarily tempted to stay there and absorb whatever half quiet daylight was still available in the yard, soon to be crowded with conversation about potato salad and that despicable grill presumably meant to suggest the joy of cooking to husbands, brothers, and such.

But Marigold's thoughts digressed as she fantasized some ashram that would have her, by herself, of course, where Marigold might imagine mostly trees and flowers and sky as quiet as an un-airplane-d span of blue might afford.

Inevitably, Marigold had to vault her physique out from the hammock and onto the floor of the yard to make room for the recipient of her well-meaning gift and just then the sudden honk of gratitude made its way to her ears, accompanied by high-pitched squeals of female members of her hapless species.