Mj Pettengill

My fireworks have wings and fly around in the fields and out by the pond.

Until meeting Samuel, I was unaware that I had left a vital part of my soul in the heart of that tree.

I find my way to the truth. It’s there; it waits patiently for relief from rage left unexpressed.

With Abigail, I shared gratitude when my father gave me this doll. And like Abigail, my doll meant more after my father’s passing.

The Art of Wild Tea: Wildcrafting in New Hampshire Workshop / Facilitator: Mj Pettengill Embrace the nature of our cycles and seasons...

“Raise your words, not your voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.” —Rumi

In Flanders fields, the poppies blow...

It was oddly festive for such an unfortunate event.

Forget-me-not because we grow together...

I wish to report that the "Scent Therapy/ Olfactory Training" is effective. I am still dealing with parosmia (intense onions, sulfur, and...

To the pretty frogs, dragonflies, birds, fish, beavers, flowers, rivers, bees, and swamps, I am sorry.

Before Death’s final blow, she was but a flower that never faded, showin’ me the fierceness of a mother’s love.

From the bosom of the devastated earth, a voice goes up with our own. It says, "Disarm, Disarm!"

If we choose to acknowledge it, our bodies have tremendous healing capabilities.

Within a short time, many of my former curls were in messy, swirling clumps, blowing gently in the trees.

I am always excited and inspired to see the arrival of wild violets.

There wasn’t a better place for untanglin’ thoughts and bein’ amongst clouds.

Ah yes, we are resilient and resourceful.

We cannot heal what we are unwilling to look at or afraid to know.

My father had been dying for so long, that letting go was bittersweet.