Wigs in the Garden

Sunday was Wig Day. No. Not like Funny Hat Day, or Pajama Day, but it was a day filled with wigs from sun-up to sun-down. If you ever want to see a lot of curly bouncy wigs, go to an Irish Dance Feis (pronounced fesh), which is a competition and has solo dances as well as team dances. We were at such an event on Sunday, from 9:00am until 3:30pm, and everywhere you looked, it was curly bouncy wigs, bouncing on stage, or bouncing on the girls waiting to perform.

At the lunch break, I had the privilege to go with three young 9-year old dancers on a walk along Calgary’s Stephen Avenue Mall a few blocks to the Devonian Gardens, a fantastic year round garden on the third floor of one of the indoor malls right in downtown Calgary. After lunch, the girls explored some of the garden before we returned to the hotel where the competition was being held. They were just a little conspicuous, three little girls in their black and hot pink team track pants and jackets. They jigged everywhere they walked. The bouncy wigs may have turned a few heads as well.

Wigs in the Garden

Wigs in the Garden

 

There were walls covered in climbing and clinging plants, exotic trees making mini-jungles and the girls tried to hide from us. Sorry, girls, your wigs don’t look like those plants.

The fish-less fish pond.

The fish-less fish pond.

 

 

The fish pond had no fish in it. Hmmm . . . Maybe the fish saw the wigs and hid!

 

Please don't bounce the elevator, girls.

Please don’t bounce in the elevator, girls.

 

It was time to make our way back the two blocks.
So they bounced while waiting for the elevator,

 

 

 

These guys have been talking for years!

These guys have been talking for years!

 

and stopped to chat with some very quiet men . . .

 

They even danced for some homeless people sitting on a bench nearby and made those people smile and laugh, with Irish music playing from a phone.

 

Waiting by the stage.

Waiting patiently by the stage.

Back at the hotel, they all danced their best and had to wait patiently, without bouncing, for the results.

They all made their families very proud.

 

 

 

Thank you, Kim Asman, for the idea of the title, Wigs in the Garden. I love it!

By the way, Irish dancers made their way into one of my books. I love it that much!

Do you?

 

Time for a Little Literary Yard Work

Lately, I’ve been sending queries off to agents and spending a lot of time waiting. Not idle time, mind you, but it’s given me some time to go through, over and again, my writing and tidy it up a lot.

You know . . . fixing typos and spelling, ensuring punctuation is not only correct but consistent, making sure grammar is spot on.

No surprises here!

No surprises here!

The path through my literary landscape was well balanced and esthetically pleasing. The gate at the beginning told you this was the beginning. There was just enough color and diversity to even things out. I had little labels on all the unusual things to explain where that came from, how this grew, and even why and something exotic and seemingly out-of-place was included in my garden of words. Everything was nicely labelled and laid out so anyone viewing it would know exactly what was planted there.

A garden is a wonderful place to go and just sit on the bench and take in the surroundings. A place to relax and just look (from that ubiquitous ornate wrought-iron bench) and see everything as it is. Sometimes, that exactly what you need. You see everything from your comfortable seat and since you know it all just from that one sitting so that when you close the gate at the end of the path, you have no reason to go back.

What kind I find here?

What can I find here?

Then, yesterday morning, as I was walking down to fetch the trash containers from the alley, I looked down at the path I knew so well, and found some late blooms on the wild rose bush, and a toy that had disguised itself as one of those blooms. A rustling noise near the fence brought me to a breathless standstill. What was there? A mouse? A mole? A rabbit? Just the wind? I looked for clues but the mystery remains. Back on the pathway, the moss binds the stonework yet there was a single dandelion and I wondered at its lone presence. Why not more? Why one at all? A few steps later, the soft moss disappeared, leaving the pavers bare. Again, I ask why? What happened here that left the stones bereft of the gentle moss? Would it make a difference if I move some of the plants around so the sunlight hits the garden differently?

And I realized immediately what I needed to do.

“Show me—Don’t tell me.” Who among writers hasn’t heard that time and time again?

I don’t want just tell you what you need to focus on moment by moment. I want you to wonder what’s under that rock, what made that noise. I want you sitting on the edge of that uncomfortable metal bench, wondering what’s going to happen next. Then I want you to jump up and dig around; I want you to find out what’s happening.

I want you to ask, “How did I miss that? Was it there in the background all along”?

Of course it was there, but I want you to come back again and again to discover things you missed the first or second or third time!

So I’m pulling out the deleting hoe and weeding out not only the unnecessary words, but I’m chopping out entire scenes if that’s what it takes. I’m taking out my copy, cut, and paste shovel to rearrange events and scenes to make a more exciting and interactive garden.

There are many types of gardens and needs for every type: Neatly labelled, or motivating, or secretive and compelling.

Woodward Park, Tulsa OK

Woodward Park, Tulsa OK. Alluring beauty.

The garden path in my backyard in late September is nothing compared to the magnificence of Woodard Park in Tulsa in April but both have exciting secrets to be discovered. You may never find even find all of them.

The fun is all in the search!