I misread my horoscope this morning. What I thought it said: “The leaves on the permission tree outside your door are growing so fast . . .”

Do you have a permission tree? Is it blooming? Do the pale green twigs and buds make a fragrant spring tea? If I agree to read the swirl of tea leaves cast across the bottom of your cup, what will happen next?

How to ripen permission fruit: Place in a brown paper bag to soften in the dry heat of the attic stairs. Nip the tomato-colored skin with your teeth, peel it easily away with your fingers, slip the warm flesh into your mouth.

Paradigmatic Structure:

The permission tree is distinct from other arboreal species by its yes-shaped leaves, ability to decode the rhetorical gestures of the wind, and penchant for attracting brightly-colored lichen.

Syntagmatic Structure:

The permission tree is one of several mythological trees existing in the insufficiently-caffeinated minds of people with wild eyes and disheveled hair. It is ontologically suspect, and, like other ciphers of similar taxonomy, should (probably) be treated with caution. If one should happen to come across this tree in passing, one should (probably) just ignore it and keep walking through it, even though cool leaves brush the hot lump that quietly glows like a coal in your sternum. Never mind the lump. It is only spectral.

Dónde está?

Approach: Ripe persimmons
Avoid: Disguise them in a brown paper bag
Approach: Ripe permissions
Avoid: Hide them in a brown paper bag

(Just give me what I want and no one gets hurt . . .)

Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!

xoxoxoxoxo
r

Hello! I have missed reading about you and your permission tree. Welcome back.

M Luminous

I wonder if permission slips (like my mother had to sign for my field trips in grade school) are the leaves of the permission tree?

I love this. :)

I usually just lurk, but I just had to say... I love your writing and slightly asymmetrical view of the world. I'm glad you're back, because reading your blog is one of the treats I give myself.

Have you read "The Age of Wire and String"?

Hello, hello Rebecca, Luminous, Shelley, Anne, and Anonymous! XOXO!

And no, Anonymous, I haven't read "The Age of Wire and String." It looks interesting . . . perhaps I will check it out.

:)

Good to see you again!

How lovely to hear your so distinct voice in this world!

I saw dried perimmon slices at the health food store. They looked like those wheel-shaped doraditos they sell on the street corners.

is this a coincidence?