ON THE TREE OF LIFE – Marilyn Armstrong

FOWC with Fandango — Tree

On the tree of life, I am but a twig. A twig with a powerful desire to go back to bed and stay there until I feel better. I’m beginning to wonder what feeling better feels like. Would I recognize it if I bumped into it?

I am apparently becoming increasingly anemic. Maybe that’s the problem. To bee or not to bee, it’s a buzzing question.


Thursday photo prompt: Colorful Wishes #writephoto

Charlene was delighted with her tree. Everywhere else, when someone had a statement to make, it was always stupid toilet paper. All over the tree and then it would drizzle or rain and for weeks, the tree looked like it had some kind of hideous fungus on it.

She had done a much better job. Bright, colorful. It was a cheerful, happy tree and what started with anger, ended in art. She barely remembered why she started “fixing” the tree. She thought something had made her angry and she wanted to show the world, but before she was even a quarter of the way through it, the project had morphed into Art.

Brianna was going to be really surprised when she stepped out of the house that morning. Not a single sheet of toilet paper. Just bright colors swinging gaily from the little tree by the gate.

Charlene giggled all the way home. Surprise!


This prompt was offered just this past September. This was my response.

If I am reincarnated … if I am to go around the wheel again … I would like to be a tree.


I would live a long time at the edge of the forest, with my roots comfortably near the water and my tallest branching reaching up to welcome the sun and stars.


Not a person. A slower life, measured in the time it take to grow a ring … no rushing, no running. No competition. The whispering companionship of others of my kind, growing with the world.

I want to be a tree.



Our Angel wore out. You wouldn’t think they could wear out. After all, they don’t do anything except sit there on top of the tree and look angelic, right? But after more than 20 years, our angel fell quietly to pieces. Peacefully, but nonetheless, a final peace in pieces.

Bratz Angel

My granddaughter, clever angel that she is, felt we needed a new angel and sacrificed one of her many (oh so many) Bratz dolls. I think we have the only black lipped Goth tree angel, but it’s a very nice angel indeed. The tree looks fine, though it too is coming near the end of its life and next year we will probably have to replace it. For now, we will keep it.

Since Garry were married, I’ve bought a special decoration for Christmas each year. 2013’s decoration are the stuffed owls I bought at the Heritage Museum Lighting Night. If you look, you will see other Christmases and their special decoration. There have been many. Hopefully there will be many more.