Mj Pettengill

We tend to go with the flow but have no idea where the river leads.

She said that only very special people had a monocle curl and that they saw things differently.

Imagine sitting in the middle of a field of anonymous graves with nothing to go on but intuition.

The trees help old souls reach out to me, begging for their stories to be told. Until that time, it is they who need consoling.

I stood and watched until Death’s cart was out of sight. I was not afraid. I could not say what I felt, but it was not fear.

Remembering a barn and entering it is to remember my heart and enter my soul. I am confident that a wide assortment of thoughts and ideas...

What did it mean to win or lose?

Tho’ I knew that mornin’ had indeed arrived, its general nature had gone wrong.

Poor wretched Outcast! I will weep for thee, And sorrow for forlorn humanity.

Had I left the fireflies alone, our stories may have taken a different turn.

I am a historical whistleblower. It's what I do...

Each time I cried for her, the river took me back in her rage. I fought White River until I could fight no more.

Apparently, it isn’t who or what you worship, or where and why. It is about somethin’ much bigger than us, and we’re in it together.

If your insight, instincts, and intuition are intact, then you may be in the midst of cracking open. If you dare trust yourself, this is...

WHITE PINE HAS RECENTLY EXPLODED ON THE SCENE IN THE HERBAL COMMUNITY...read on.

Be mindful of what may emerge. Trust yourself, and trust your characters.

Daddy always said that when somethin’ is born, somethin’ dies, and when somethin’ dies, somethin’ is born—livestock, deadstock.

I was just eight years old when I had the idea to play in the cemetery and stop and read the stones.

Unlike the traditional auction, familiar to us in modern times, the pauper was sold to the lowest bidder.

“In God’s eyes, we are the same, no matter which side of the fence we are on.”