There once was a tree that, spring came, and it didn’t feel like blooming.

“You can’t make me,” said the tree, and all around it the cherry blossoms were exploding, the lilacs were pumping out their stuff, the daffodils came and went and the crocuses and the green blossoms were turning from buds into full-blown leaves.

Still the tree stood there.  “Don’t push me,” said the tree, to itself, but if you walked past this tree you could feel its vibe.  This tree was still as naked as it had been in November and it wasn’t over how cold it had gotten so suddenly, and it wasn’t about to be tricked by warm weather again.  Oh no. The warm weather would come, but it wasn’t there to stay, thought the tree.  The warm weather would be so that I would bloom and then as soon as I do that then the cold snap comes and I’m dead again.  It was like Charlie Brown and the football.   Or like when someone prematurely opens the oven on a baking pie.  Not me, not this time, thought the tree.

“You fools,” thought the tree, watching all its friends shuck off inhibition and stand there vulnerable in all their full color.  “One big wind comes through and  those blossoms are gone.  You’ll see.”

Then one day the tree woke up and there was a crew from the city starting up their chainsaws.  They were going to take the tree down because they thought it was dead.

“Get away from my leg” cried the tree, but they couldn’t hear over the growling of the chainsaw.

Goddamn it, thought the tree, and the tree bore down and suddenly exploded in a shocking display of pink blossoms.

The guy with the chainsaw was so shocked that he dropped the saw and had to be taken back to the hospital to have his foot sewn back on. Yes, this tree was very much alive, and it was immediately taken off the Do Not Resuscitate list.

And there stood the passive aggressive tree, resplendent in its color on a warm spring day, surrounded by friends and admired by tourists. But also feeling resentful.

“They made me do it,” thought the tree, glorious but stewing.  “I feel like such a fool. ”

A squirrel scrabbled up its branches.   “Get over yourself,” said the squirrel, “life is now”.

“Oh go stuff your cheeks” said the tree.  And the squirrel did just that.