empty tree

December Asks
  • Wind: What do you want to look like?
  • Frost: Do you believe in magic?
  • Empty Trees: Describe something, or someone, that comforts you.
  • Fat Birds: What age do you want to die at?
  • Gray Skies: What would you change about the physical world?
  • First Snow: Describe a favorite fantasy from when you were a kid.
  • Finals Week: What do you want to be when you "grow up"?
  • Minty Cocoa: Tell a story you love!
  • Evergreen Trees: Share a memory that shaped you.
  • Blizzard: Do you believe in soulmates?
  • Poinsettia: What winter movies or TV shows do you return to?
  • Candle Lit: Favorite books to read in December?
  • Arguing About Starbucks Cups: What issues matter to you?
  • Hymn: Are you spiritual?
  • Hearthside: Do you celebrate any rites of winter?
  • Solstice: Tell your perfect, utterly perfect, December day.
We fell in love in the summer, when the sunshine and I kissed your lips and you felt the warmth of my love. When the cool summer nights brought out the stars shining both in the sky and my eyes. But just like the seasons changed so did we. You see we both fell like the leaves of fall only I feel deeper in love with you; while you fell far out of love. Now all I’m left with is the empty trees, because like the leaves that scatter the ground memories of our love have fallen; cracked and discolored.
—  Excerpt from a book I will never write #1140

Unwilling Bride Pt1

Unwilling Bride Pt2

Unwilling Bride Pt3

Unwilling Bride Pt4

Unwilling Bride Pt5

Unwilling Bride Pt6

Unwilling Bride Pt7

Unwilling Bride Pt8

Unwilling Bride Pt9

Unwilling Bride Pt10

Unwilling Bride Pt11

You woke up to an empty tree house meaning that Peter was probably traveling between worlds like he usually did.

You got up and headed out, deciding today would be chill day, so no training.

‘Boys! Front and center!’ you yelled as you entered the main camp.

‘Yes Mother!’ they all greeted as they lined up.

‘No training, consider it a reward for how well you guys have been doing lately. I know I’m not the easiest trainer to deal with.’ you announced.

The boys all cheered and you couldn’t help but smile at their excitement.

You sat on a log and watched as they all chattered about what games they would play today.

Sparring, Wrestling, Foot Race, Knife Throwing…they couldn’t decide.

‘What game do you want to play mom’

You looked around for who he was talking to, before dumbly realizing he couldn’t be talking to anyone but you.

‘Uh…’ you froze.

‘Let’s play a game called Make Mother Laugh. Rules are you can’t touch her, whoever makes her laugh the hardest wins. Winner gets a pass on all duties tomorrow.’ Felix said.

The boys all seemed excited and immediately agreed to the game.

‘Me first, me first!’ one of the youngest boys said excitedly.

He stepped up and did this adorable little dance, which sure isn’t that funny, but the determination in his face made you giggle.

Boy after boy they all tried to make you laugh, doing dances, making faces, telling jokes. And while some were funnier than the others the most you had done was a hearty chuckle.

Felix came to the circle and stood in the center confidently.

‘Once, I was following Peter while he was flying…and he crashed into a tree and got stuck.’

You burst out laughing, the thought of the Powerful Pan dangling in a tree had you clutching your stomach.

‘I-I ah ha ha ha! Oh god, my stomach hurts.’ you laughed.

While you try to gather yourself the Lost Boys realize what makes you laugh.

‘He sings when he bathes, sounds like dying toad.’ another said.

‘I caught him picking his nose, three times!’

‘I caught him struggle to tie his trousers because they were too tight for him.’

‘He is also going to turn all of you into goats.’

Everyone turned and saw Pan standing behind them, red in the face from either embarrassment or anger.

The camp fell silent, that is until your eyes landed on Peter and you burst out laughing all over again.

You stumble up from your seat and caught your breath as you walk over to your husband.

‘You win.’ you said before your laughs continued.


Too many of our children are not growing up,
They’re growing in;
Instead of becoming engineers and building their future,
They are becoming mathematicians,
Counting calories on scales they can never live up to.
And what do we have to offer them but empty plates?
In open hands We feed them magazines,
Full of images of what they perceive is pretty;
Paper thin.
And they will take it,
Their five fingered forks
Filling their empty bellies with dead trees,
Hoping the branches won’t break on the way,
While we cut them down;
Another inch.
Their idols Imposters;
Neon paintings of people who never existed,
Splayed on billboards to be dissected by the masses,
Their holy guts a crucifix to beauty;
And they eat them up,
Getting stuck in their teeth,
Like wish bones that were never whole.
They’re left unfulfilled,
Starving for the next thing,
As we shove packages marked ‘fat free’
Down into their core
And preach epidemics of obesity,
But we never taught them to be full.
We teach them ribs are sexy,
So they count every one,
A notch in their belt;
Hollow cheeks and sunken eyes
That the gap in their thighs should be wide enough,
To see the girl behind them,
And send them to their Graves early;
Long before they’re dead.
Because being frail means you are a woman;
We made them women before they even knew.
We shamed their bodies with smiles on our faces,
So they wouldn’t know the difference,
And then watched them fade away
Congratulating every pound.
We need to teach them size doesn’t matter;
To wear their joy.
That they are more then three syllables,
Worth more then a 9 letter word;
That every angle and curve is perfect
Because there’s no one in the world like them.
That editing programs do not create people,
And the next time someone makes them feel less then fucking perfect,
Shove their forks in their faces
And give them something they can chew.

…there’s an epidemic

Dating Harry Would Include - 32

Chrismas tree:

- Coming home and finding him in the living room surrounded by Christmas decorations
- His smile widening when he sees you walking between the boxes scattered on the floor
- Stretching out his hand to help you to join him in front of the still empty Christmas tree
- His proud smile while looking at the tree “You like? I chose it myself, wanted the best one for our first Christmas together!”
- Kissing the back of your hand relieved when he see you smile
- His enthousiasme in opening all the boxes to find the light garland
- Your amused sigh when he makes you wear the light garland as a crown
- Blocking you when you try to take it off to be able to give all your face noisy kisses
- Holding the garland above your head to reach the highest branches, kissing your cheek by surprise when you turn your head
- Mocking you because you have to go your tiptoes to reach the top of the tree “You really deserve your name of Little Queen.”
- Taking carefully the decorations from your hands to put them where you can’t reach
- His fingers above yours helping you to hang  a big  garland around the tree
- Kissing your fingertip when you prick your finger with the spines of the fir
- Wanting to decorate the tree right where you are on purpose to pass his arms around your waist
- Taking advantages of his arms around your waist to hold you from behind and kissing the back of your head
- Patting your butt to make you move aside when you stay in his way looking at the tree with concentration
- Raise you by passing his arms around your thighs so that you can place the star at the top of the fir tree
- Sitting on couch and can’t stop smiling while looking at your happy face
- Letting you install the last decorations , nodding with a tender smile when you ask him if the tree looks good
- Opening his arms for you to come sit on his laps when you finally satisfied with your work  "I think we did a pretty good job, didn’t we?“
- Hugging you in kissing your shoulder while he makes you lay your side on his torso
- His lips pressed into your hair while looking at the Christmas tree lighting up the room becoming dark because of the end of day , his arms tightly wrapped around your body

Wanna know something? I haven’t taken the Christmas tree down yet!

Ok, we got it Christmas Eve, so it hasn’t been up an insane length yet.

It’s just….

I don’t want it down.

It has nothing at all to do with Christmas. It’s all these shapes and colors and textures. It’s a variety of lights and sparkling things all over something from nature brought indoors. It soothes me and brings me a sense of peace.

I know I’m odd in my perceptions, like say finding the color yellow disturbing, evoking illness while red brings as sense of contentment or how I hate hot climates with too much sky, making me feel like a rabbit at the edge of a field where hawks hunt. So when folks tell people to get rid of clutter, as if clutter is an evil it annoys me, because for me emptiness is the evil.  Spartan surroundings, bare walls and open spaces actually upset me. It’s a nothingness, a void, a sense of despair and desolation all wrapped up with a bone deep unease I feel in the “neat” souless spaces others aspire to. I have a need to be surrounded by all kinds of things, to have my eyes continually finding something to fall on, and the denser the level of detail surrounding me, the larger the diversity of the content, the calmer I feel.

You should have seen what my room was like before the fall of the floor. Walls and towers to the ceiling with books and dvds and cds, covered over with three catagories of things: “things I found out in the world” “things with faces” “objects I just liked”. And when every sgelf, cabinet, table or other surface was covered I strung a hammock across my ceiling, filling it with the soft and light things, all plush and cuddly. And even the structures I covered, magnets on every inch of metal bookcases…ribbons woven through the hammock, things that clipped or could be hung for it….I was constantly adding things, like if I found some deer antlers I’d stick them among plush toys. If a bot of wall was exposed I put the ever changing art of a a calendar. Dolls, action figures, statues and the like looked out of everywhere. Heck, even the bit of ceiling I could see had glow in the dark stars. It was a cozy safe place. My nest, my den, my little cave. 

My brother called it “terrifying” and “disturbing” and “chaos”, but it was just the opposite to me.

But then the floor of the house that collapse, the rot naturally causing it to fall beneath those bookcases at the entrance to my room. So everything was moved and since then it’s been….


Oh, I have my bed (springs and a futon), three plastic bins of clothes (the rest stored), stacks of books and such I have gotten since the move out (though I try to move them out too) but it is mostly empty shelves and cabinets and….nothing. To try to relieve  it  I have 20 calendars, but still flat dark rose pink colored wall swallows me.

 I don’t like spending time in my room. There is so little to engage my eye, too little divert my mind. It’s an embodiment of sadness and hopelessness. 

But right now there is the tree, just beyond the foot of my bed. A tree where my eye can drift among all the levels of ornaments, watch bubble lights burbling away and tinsel wafting in that constsnt chilly draft, smell the pine and feel it prickle against my skin when I brush by, listen to the ornaments with sound when the mood takes me…add the sense of taste from candy canes and you have a major sensory experience in the corner! 

I am really not into sensory depravation! LOL

Nature fills the same sensory need in me, but to often I can’t go to the woods or swamp any more.

The tree has made me feel better just by being here. My mood has been…dark lately, but I go into my room and flop with my head practically in the tree and it changes. I feel myself sigh, my body and mind  relax.  It rescues me.

Interestingly Mom, all on her own, keeps talking about the tree. She calls it beautiful and says it makes her happy just looking at it. Then she, the one who wouldn’t bother to put one up and wants things put away quickly after, says to me “We should leave it up for a few more days. There isn’t any rush…..” She has never said that before, so maybe it comforts her too. Things have been tough lately.

So I will have to take it down soon. Tomorrow? No, not yet..sigh…but this week. And there will be a nothing again. I will starve again for that escape from suffocating dull sameness and crushing order. 

Hmmm. We still have a coat rack we haven’t moved out of the house. I could put it in the corner where the tree is and hang things on it….maybe even keep a small string of Christmas lights to wrap around it….


i used to say to Pop, how could these people around us live like they do , with houses devoid of books and walls without even art. You’d drive aling and see through big picture windows large tvs and sofas and almost nothing else in their homes. I’m not talking about people with no money, but who just weren’t interested in having things around them. And they would actually throw things away that were perfectly good. They would talk about throwing away their kid’s toys or refusing to allow some member of a family to have their hobby stuff  in the house as if this was wonderful. This idea of “space” in a house  mattered more than even the happiness of the people that lived in it. They seem to crave an emptiness. Pop would joke about empty homes and empty minds. Really though, I think some of us are just wired differently. And for some of us that means a lot of wires!

But….I do have to force myself to take down the tree…

Cherishing What Isn’t

by Jack Gilbert

Ah, you three women whom I have loved in this
long life, along with the few others.
And the four I may have loved, or stopped short
of loving. I wander through these woods
making songs of you. Some of regret, some
of longing, and a terrible one of death.
I carry the privacy of your bodies
and hearts in me. The shameful ardor
and the shameless intimacy, the secret kinds
of happiness and the walled-up childhoods.
I carol loudly of you among trees emptied
of winter and rejoice quietly in summer.
A score of women if you count love both large
and small, real ones that were brief
and those that lasted. Gentle love and some
almost like an animal with its prey.
What is left is what’s alive in me. The failing
of your beauty and its remaining.
You are like countries in which my love
took place. Like a bell in the trees
that makes your music in each wind that moves.
A music composed of what you have forgotten.
That will end with my ending.


Ash gray empty tree limbs
against a pale pastel sky
above the white blanket below,

The cold does not bite
it nuzzles it’s way under
scarf and hat and around my neck

I float in a pocket of warmth
that hugs me beneath my coat
assuring me there’s no true danger here

The night slowly unrolls itself
in a silent kiss to a still world
as I breathe in the cold and make it mine

Living is an act drawn vivid
into a fine knife line separation
between the world and the flesh that I am

Awareness of the fragility
glows like aurora in my mind
my frigid moment burning brightly

Here I am merely an animal
and I must pay my homage
to the grand power that is the natural world

Breathe in the cold
Exhale the warmth