'The Tartan Twig?'

I thought I should maybe explain where the title comes from, and so with the help of good old Wikipedia, we have the following:

A twig is a small thin terminal branch of a woody plant. The buds on the twig are an important diagnostic characteristic, as are the abscission scars where the leaves have fallen away. The color, texture, and patterning of the twig bark are also important, in addition to the thickness and nature of any pith of the twig.

Etymology 1
Old English twigge, from Proto-Germanic *twīgan (compare West Frisian twiich, Dutch twijg, German Zweig), from Proto-Indo-European *dwigha (compare Old Church Slavonic dvigŭ 'branch', Albanian degë 'id.'), from *dwó 'two'. More at two.

Noun

twig (plural twigs)

1. A small thin branch of a tree or bush.

They used twigs and leaves as a base to start the fire. 

Etymology 2

Verb
From Irish and Scots Gaelic tuig, "to understand"

twig (third-person singular simple present twigs, present participle twigging, simple past and past participle twigged)

1. (colloquial, regional) To realise something; to 'catch on'.

   • He hasn't 'twigged' that we're planning a surprise party for him.

Meanwhile,

Tartan is a pattern consisting of criss-crossed horizontal and vertical bands in multiple colours.

Having done a fair bit of work on my family tree over the years, I began to become increasingly conscious of those branches that did not 'yield' a subsequent generation.  In other words, those small thin terminal branches, and I didn't want to be a twig on my family tree!

But in this journey, where I've been trying to work out the patterns of  my life, I'm gradually coming to 'twig' on to the fact that there is much more to life and in fact the description of a twig helps that along.  I like the fact that the scars of leaves fallen from a twig are important, as well as the colour, texture and patterns of it - and particularly the 'nature of the pith'.  I am actually thinking that now, I could be quite proud to be a twig, and that I still have time to shape the nature of my pith.

As for the tartan, well, as a girl I would sit through interminable church sermons and examine the tartan of my kilt, losing myself in counting the threads of each colour and following the weave as they dipped and dived beneath other colours to make yet more. 

My reflection of late has helped me to observe the various threads of my life, each with their ups and downs, but ultimately all connected and repeating in a pattern to create a unique fabric which is just me and my life.

And so, there we have it - The Tartan Twig - take it as you will.