26 September 2016

The Rose Garden | when inspiration struck

So, we recently went to Oakville, Canada (a town right outside of Toronto) to visit our cousins.  They live near these beautiful gardens called Gairloch Gardens and they are so close that we usually just bike right down.
One morning during out visit, we went to the gardens and were just milling about by the fish pond (where the littles were catching minnows) and biking down the paths.  I did a bit of exploring myself and soon found a gorgeous rose garden.  I had never seen this rose garden before for some odd reason -- even though it was right in plain sight, it was fenced in and flowering vines were growing all up the fence so you couldn't see what was inside -- and so I went it and took lots of pictures.  That rose garden was one of the most inspiring places I have ever been in.  The roses took up the whole garden which was about half an acre and they were every single color you could ever imagine.  Big green bushes and hydrangeas grew along the walls and bright colors dominated the landscape.

. . . But then, I got inspired to write . . .

I raced out of that rose garden as fast as I could and begged my uncle for a pen and a piece of paper.  After about five minutes of searching through his bag of work supplies that he had brought with him to the gardens, he finally found a half-blank sheet of paper (the other half with this graph-thing about shopping frequency or something). :)  (I'm seriously beaming at this point!)  So back I go to the rose garden, pen and paper in hand, and I catapult myself in front of a big prickly bush (yeah, not the best plan, folks). ;)
*cue scribbling sounds*  And I write.
I watch people walking about the garden, and my mind turns them into characters from my book and all is normal until these two ladies walk up to.
Lady #1: "You look very cute."
Lady #2: ". . . and comfortable."
Me: (I chuckle, but literally am dying to hide under the bush -- prickly or not -- at that point)

So these ladies walk around the garden for a few minutes and then they come back!
Lady #2: (laughing) "Do you have a sister that is as pushy as mine?" (she points to the woman next to her)
Me: "Yes, I actually have three sisters."
Lady #1: "Oh really!  Do you have any brothers?"
Me: "Yes. Two."

(unimportant bits of the conversation . . .)

Lady #2: "Are you a writer?"
Me: "I am."
Lady #1: "Good for you.  I hope you're famous someday."

Yup, and there I go as soon as they leave, jotting down every word of what they said.  Uh-huh. ;)

And here is what I wrote: It's an unfinished scene for my book, The Woodhouse Girls.

As Philippe made her way along the gravel path, gulping in great breaths of air as she did so, she noticed that the path she was walking on led to a wooden gate and fence.  The gate stood open, invitingly, as if calling her into what lay beyond.  She quickened her steps and made for its sanctity.  Upon reaching the gate she inhaled deeply sucking in the aromatic scent of flowers.  She pushed her way through the gate and overhanging ivy and birch bows, thankful for their shelter for their shelter from the scene she had ;eft behind her.  The straggling flowering ivy crept up and along the fence obscuring all views into and out of the fenced garden.  Philippe stepped into the path inside and realized that she had just entered a garden.  It covered about two acres of land.  Roses grew in every visible direction; pink roses, red roses, white roses, yellow roses, orange roses, roses growing in big puffy balls, tiny roses, big roses, roses with thorns, roses without thorns, and multicolored roses.  Philippe had never seen so many roses in one place in her life.  They were planted in rows, in geometric patterns, and in circles along the path.  She bowed her bronze head and sniffed one of them, a white rose with pink tinted edges.  A few people milled about in the garden, aram in arm with their ladies maids and chaperones.  . . .
This was all I got done before I was interrupted, and after that, we had to leave!

Sorry, the lighting was absolutely horrific! ;)

So, what do you think?  Have you ever been assailed in a rose garden by old ladies?  Tell me a story about an inconvenient time that inspiration struck you!


  1. I think it was out at the library or something, and I had this amazing idea!! But sadly (I usually carry around a notebook) I had left my bag in the car because I had an arm-full of books to carry, so the entire time afterwords I was thinking nonstop 'Remember it remember it remember it remember it' until we got home, and then I forgot it. :( But anyways, I usually do all my

    Loved that!! I've had some interesting experiences with people.....but never as frank as that!! XD

    Amelia xxxx
    <3 (You probably could have guessed since I was typing so much) (lol) (XD)

    1. Yes, I usually do too! I think I left mine in my suit case, though. ;) Lol
      Haha, thanks for sharing that story!! XD


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