My husband and I entertain a fair amount. Not over the top, but enough that I'm sure the napkins are ironed, the dogs are brushed out and the silver is hopefully not too tarnished. I try to keep the house "ready," though that's not always the case.
I have a confession. I love flowers. I live with flowers. Bright pinks, oranges, reds, a subtle white now and then share our space. Flowers are in the dining room, the sitting area, the living room and our bathrooms. I have a cabinet with vases short, tall, silver, crystal, and plain dumb glass. When I expect company, I have even more flowers. I usually have flowers in two or three rooms (feel free to send some if you are so inclined). It's one of my personal pleasures. We had company last night and the flowers caused me to think.
Why do I like them? What do they mean? Why do I fuss with clipping the stems, changing the water, rearranging the blossoms? What really made me think about all of this was the comment from a neighbor who stopped by. It stopped me short.
There was a really lovely arrangement of tulips on my dining room table. I thought they looked pretty darn good. Not according to my friendly let-me-tell-you-what-I-think-neighbor. She was pretty clear. You don't have tulips this time of year. It's the fall. It's past Election Day. Halloween is over. Thanksgiving is next week. Tulips are for the spring. My arrangement on the dining room table was wrong.
I thought the yellow and red stripes of the buds looked lovely. The green leaves spread out and cupped the blossoms. They filled the middle of the table and set the color for the rest of my table. But, did I really have it wrong?
Another friend dropped off something she had borrowed. "Oh," she said, "I love the colors of the tulips. But, where did you find them? I mean, it IS November."
Metaphors. That's what I began to realize. The tulips weren't color. They weren't the reds and the oranges I had played off my table setting. They weren't the uplifting green stems with a lollipop of fun at the tip. They were, according to those who live around me, wrong. Metaphors.
It wasn't spring time. It is fall. The images of the particular flower bothered them. Not me, but them.
When we write we pick objects, scenes, icons and colors to represent the message we are telling. Metaphors. You probably wouldn't have a sweet child dressed in black. Or, an ill elderly man tucked under his blanket wearing a purple tennis outfit. Or, a vampy ready-to-party twenty-something in a baggy Go Harvard sweat shirt.
Our minds race ahead of our eyes when we read. We have figured out much of the scene before finishing the read. We have expectations and want our authors to make that happen and still then surprise us.
My flowers, though I think beautiful, bothered the image my neighbors expected. There was a dissonance they couldn't understand. I realized as I was setting the table and finishing the last minute details, it was a metaphor.
The flowers stayed on the table. They are still there, no matter what anyone says. But as I look at them I wonder. Am I wishing for spring? Are they really out of place? Can there be room on this dreary day for color regardless of the season from which they hark? Or, as my friends were quick to point out, did I really choose a symbol that didn't fit?
Our writing is much like that. As I chop out words and let them fall to the floor--beautiful words, words with color, words that speak to me--are they not the right ones for the moment?
And you? Does this happen in your writing? Metaphors.
10 comments:
Cassy, I'm with you about the tulips. I see them as struggling in a world (season) they don't belong yet not only surviving but also giving off their beautiful colors for all the world to see.
Shame on the neighbors for raining on your parade and trying to interject their own limitations on life - much like a CP who wants you to do things her way.
Kudos to you for keeping the tulips.
I cant send flowers, but I am sending hugs. Smell the fragrance of the tulips and be glad that life is good.
Cassy, I agree with Liz about the tulips. If you want them then go for it. After all, it's your house and you can decorate it however you want.
And just like the fllowers, the words are yours. Don't lose them for you might want them later.
And why can't an elderly man wear a purple tennis outfit. You should have seen some of the colored outfits my dad would wear, year round I might point out.
Cassy, I think the neighbors' comments say much more about their own rigidity than anything else. :) Obviously you can see things in a more vivid, vibrant fashion, and I'm glad you do.
I also like your point about readers' expectations, and the mind racing faster than the eye when reading. That's a great way to UPSET the expectations, with something bold and original that is perfectly placed--something that makes the reader see the world in a way they haven't previously.
Folks: Great comments. Thank you! You are right and the tulips are sitting right where I can see them. I was, though, taken by the surprise of two people. That's what got me thinking about the suggestion that a particular flower represented a season. Just you each have said- that needs to be questioned.
Yup, Liz, just like a CP who thinks he/she knows best. My words are right, Lindsay.
Donna: I love your comment that maybe that shakes up the reader. It's what we shoot for, right?
Okay, now to move on to daffodils, forsythia, and my beautiful Jack-in-the Pulpits.
Liz, I can see you now hugging my Hibiscus tree- it's in full bloom in my sunroom and begging for your special attention!
I love flowers of any kind, Cassy! I love plants, too, but can't keep any of them alive.
Hmmm, wonder what that's a metaphor for :-)
Showcase them proudly!
Cassy, Great post. However, I'm not sure I think about things like that when I write. I'm just lucky to write.
I agree with Liz, shame on those neighbors! I'm sending hugs also!
I might have shame on those neighbors, but I am still thinking about why it bothered them so much. From a writing perspective I find it interesting that there is a connection to be had. Oh well, so be it. I think too much.
Flowers are never out of place. I imagine the tulips on your table laughing at the limited imagination of those who categorize them into a season instead of celebrating their beauty.
Makes me think of tongues clicking at a sexy woman in red at church.
I'm with you - I adore flowers. I like them so much that I thank the withered before I bring in a fresh bouquet. Flowers are a vivid reminder of the fleeting and fragile beauty in life.
Rochelle: You said it so well. And, by comparing the flowers to life, you again bring forward the metaphor I was attempting to describe. Thank you.
Interesting, Leslie. I struggle with balancing conflict with likability myself--as my writing group often reminds me. Thanks!
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