In Transition

Hi everyone,

It might be a while before I can put up my next post,
as I'm intransient at the moment.

I'm going through the motions of moving house,
with the view of moving from Darwin
(Northern Territory, Australia)
to Sydney (New South Wales, Australia).
But it's a slow process,
and it might take quite a few weeks to achieve.

Here's hoping  :)

Pray for Paris

My thoughts and prayers
go out to all in Paris    :(

What Musical Note is That?

Sounds
In nature, there are many different sounds,
which are audible, ie. can be heard by the human ear.

Notes
Some sounds are harmonic.
This means that they "reverberate", in a pleasant way to the ear.
These harmonic sounds are otherwise known as "notes".

Harmonic objects
Harmonic sounds will be obvious to anyone who owns a harmonic object -
Harmonic objects can include,
    Tools - such as some saws,
                   which can "sing" when sawing something
              - I have a tablespoon,
                    which produces a harmonic note when it is struck on a surface,
                    such as a bench top
    Rocks - such as porous volcanic rock,
                    which can produce a harmonic note when struck by another object,
                    because of the increased air pockets within it




So, what are the harmonic "musical notes"?

At present, the most common way of representing the notes, is this -

This is based on an individual,
basic pattern of  12  ascending (low to high) notes -

                                                           b    -    means      "flat"
                                                           #    -    means      "sharp"



                       Notes such as -          

                                                           A#    and    Bb            are the same note,
                                                                                              written two different ways




These  12  notes, each with it's own distinct character,
repeat over  4  octaves (pitches), each octave (pitch) being a higher sound -



              |   A  ,  A#/Bb  ,  B  ,  C  ,  C#/Db  ,  D  ,  D#/Eb  ,  E  ,  F  , F#/Gb  ,  G  ,  G#/Ab
      ____|_____________________________________________________________________
              |
        4    |
              |
        3    |
              |
        2    |
              |
        1    |
              |




Vocal notes
If you like to sing,
you can work out what notes that you are singing,
if you have a musical instrument "tuner",
or musical instrument,
which you can use to compare with the note that you are singing.

Notes on "Tuners" and Musical Instruments
If you have a tuner,
it should show you what note is being played,
      -  on it  -  if it is manual, so that you can use that as a comparison
      -  close to it  -  if it is electronic.

If you have a musical instrument,
it's very useful, if you have a book or have done a course
on how to use the instrument.
In these ways,
you can familiarise yourself with your instrument,
and where the notes are,
so that you can use these as a comparison,
or, to know the notes that you are playing.



Identifying a musical note
In these ways,
you can identify the notes that you are singing or playing.



(c) Katherine Stuart 2015

Poem - "Mary Stuart"

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                |                                                                                                                   |                               

Mary Stuart

                                                         Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye.

Mary Stuart, Queen of the Scot,

                                                    Hereby challenged, is your lot,

                                                    For Celtic, you are not.

                                                    So our Queen, you cannot be,

                                                    Without that personality.

                                                    Mediterranean are you, you see.

                                                    Furthermore,

                                                    Mother of our race, is not your right,

                                                    As your crimes, have come to light,

                                                    Against your children, dark as night.

                                                    As any, true celt will know,

                                                    The duty of parent, is to show,

                                                    Kindness, so that they should grow.

                                                    Hidden, was the truth,

                                                    But 'tis time, for all to know,

                                                    In, God's court of justice,

                                                    Be it so ....

                                                    When married to your, French husband, king,

                                                    In the arms of Darnley, you were dallying.

                                                    A visitor, to the court of France,

                                                    His own plans, he did you en-trance.

                                                    Pregnant, you became,

                                                    And filled with shame,

                                                    You fled the French court, your life in tatters,

                                                    Your husband dead, having lost all that matters.

                                                    Seeking safety in the Scottish realm,

                                                    From those in France, at the helm,

                                                    Against you, and your deed.

                                                    You as Queen, they did not need.

                                                    Gave birth, you did, to twins, who knew?

                                                    It would seem, very few.

                                                    The girl, you sent that day,

                                                    By your chambermaid, far away,

                                                    To Balmoral, for other ends.

                                                    Lightning and thunder. Frightening portents.

                                                    And the boy, you took that day,

                                                    Into the garden, he was to stay.

                                                    And him you did slaughter,

                                                    Severing him from your daughter.

                                                    Beneath the statue, of the angel of mercy,

                                                    Who gazed down, on your act of insanity.

                                                    Washed away, in the rain.

                                                    Did it assauge, your pain?

                                                    Then you buried him, under a tree,

                                                    With the dagger, so no-one could see.

                                                    But it didn't end there.

                                                    Another boy you did bear,

                                                    Who met the same fate,

                                                    Because of your hate.

                                                    Mary, Mary, ghosts are real,

                                                    And one, your soul will steal.

                                                    As to your daughter, plans you had.

                                                    "She can help me kill! She can be bad!

                                                    Queen of England, I want to be too!

                                                    Killing Elizabeth, she can help me to do!"

                                                    But soon you soured, "She will not do it!

                                                    Then, her fate is sealed! She will rue it!"

                                                    And what of James? Rumour has it,

                                                    You had a thing for him, isn't it?

                                                    For these reasons, that we mourn,

                                                    The Scottish title, from you will be torn.

                                                    To you, we will no longer be subjected!

                                                    Hear you now, you are, rejected!

                                                    Katherine Stuart

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(c) Katherine Stuart 2015