Garden of Sticks and Flags

Recently, while wandering through Houston's Museum District on a gorgeous spring afternoon, I happened upon one of those stick and flag gardens of myth and fable. File under: occasions you hear about but never think will happen to you.

My hands trembled with excitement as I removed my camera from my backpack and then took a few calming yoga breaths to calm my hands. I'm not some blurry Bigfoot photographer. I needed some clear pictures.

Really, would you ever believe me if I didn't have clear photos?

Enjoy this rare and fascinating sight. Observations and speculations are contained in the captions below.

You will see this is not a cultivated patch of sticks and flags as there is no discernible pattern to the placement. No this is not the handiwork of some landscaper, but a true, wild patch of sticks and flags.

An eye-catching detail about the sticks is that they tend to grow to a relatively uniform height. I did not have a measuring tape, but I would say more than 18 inches, less than two feet. You may observe, next to one stick, something at about half the height of the others. Upon closer inspection it appears that a stray pipe seed found it's way into this patch.

One might be led to believe that the flags were planted with more care, but there are flags throughout the field. Perhaps flags simply flourish best along concrete edging.

A closeup of one of the concrete edging flags. Look closely and you will see another down the way. They also seem to have weak stems as most have a slight lean in one direction or another. 

A blue flag. This field had only red, green, and blue flags. I understand they can come in many colors. Also, they, like many rare species, have had to turn to corporate sponsorship for survival.

A leaning green flag. Makes one wonder if there were once yellow flags in this field which cross-pollinated with a blue flag.

I hope you have enjoyed my little photo essay on this rare and exciting find. As you can see, it's a little bit like finding Shangri-La. Your envy is noted and completely understandable.

A Hopeful Happiness Drives a Musing Pancake

Warning: The following may have the occasional moments of snarky judgment. Please receive them with the humor and deep affection with which they are offered. 

On February 27, 2016, a few writerly types gathered at the Houston Public Library on Montrose to have a day of free writing exercises, food and shenanigans. I herded this gathering of cats---I mean, facilitated the event.

The shenanigans mostly revolved around playing a couple of rounds of The Exquisite Corpse. For you who don't know, it's a Surrealist parlor game, where you write a word, fold the paper over so the next person can't see it, pass it to the next person, write another word, etc. The fun part comes in when you tell a room full of writers, "now write a transitive verb." This is where you find out some writers think a gerund works for a transitive verb.

And, look, I'm no grammarian. I couldn't explain the subjunctive mood to save my life. But article, adjective, noun, transitive verb, article, adjective, noun? Doesn't seem too much to ask. (And for goodness sake, don't call the second noun a direct object. Well, go ahead. Hilarity ensues.)

One last bit of historical information: When the surrealists started playing this, one of the first sentences created was "The exquisite corpse drinks the new wine." Well, I think it was in French or something, but that was the sentence and this activity---and other pass-around games (I've played this with drawing a human figure too)---have been called Exquisite Corpse ever since.

Today's post is titled with one example of what we created. The rest are below (some slightly edited for spelling and to bring verbs or adjectives into their proper form). I recommend reading them aloud, and twice, as one does with haiku.

Oh, and go grab a beverage. There's a lot of them. I recommend absinthe. 

The turquoise alien rides a spunky hairdo.

The savory antelope torpedoes a billowy pest.

The fruity yo-yo drives a squishy juggernaut.

The ornery senator sprang a deep well. (Okay, not sure how to turn the intransitive "sprang" into a transitive form. But you see what I'm working with here.)

A wicked grotto stuns a bubbling walrus.

A baritonal tiger slows a ringed moon.

An uncomfortable zombie rides the elaborate dog.

A golden sun drinks the delicious tomato.

A muddy horse dressed a pound bush.

An arrogant ballroom swings an explosive glass.

The early sailboat vaulted a blessed sofa.

An expectant time shatters a horrible dress.

The swampy flowerbed mangles a constipated igloo.

A flimsy orangutang punches the hairy mother.

An abject brother slid an angry diary.

The beautiful rabbit whispered the purple goat-roper.

The stabby foliage craters the cloudless orange.

A repugnant cello folds the fiery minivan.

The frightened camel masticates the pink elephant.

The fuschia bachelor jumps the pistol apple. (Yeah, I don't know.)

The soft flea sipped the violent ocean.

The bombastic bed fights the purple violin.

A working (my best guess---penmanship, people!) horse jumps the silly rug.

A blue playmate breaks a (blank) plate. (Somehow, this one didn't get the second adjective.)

The silvery fish holds an outrageous flower.

An enormous library ascends an indescribable canopy.

The amber cat completes a close-woven continent.

A preposterous tree climbs the ruddy Martian.

A magnificent story ships the bell cider.

An angry elevator scampers a loud piano. (Wherein "scamper" gives us an example of an intransitive verb.)

An ark-like (winning the most surprising and yet correct adjective of the day award) candidate shakes an incomprehensible cupcake.

An amazing novel blinks a shaking field.

A delightful cat acts the cranky moon.

And there you have it, the Exquisite Corpses from the February 27 Writing (re)Treat. Special thanks to Margo Stutts Toombs, my lovely assistant and all around amazing, better-than-she-has-to-be friend, for organizing and asking me to facilitate this show. The feeling the room was great, and beside the exquisite corpses, I know I came away with some raw writing that could develop into other things. I hope everyone else did, too.

We'll plan on doing another one in about 3 months. Follow my writer's page on Facebook for announcement of the next one.