Mj Pettengill

Trust the angels, Dad. They are here to help you.

The time has come to shelter deep within the earthen womb of Our Mother.

Going way back, in dreams of wooded hills and endless children’s laughter, they wait, stories begging to be remembered.

We must wait until the time is right, not too soon or too late, to break out of the chrysalis—

If you were blindfolded and tasted Sumac Lemonade, you would think it was an authentic citrus lemonade.

“Anyone who tells a lie has not a pure heart and cannot make a good soup.” — Beethoven

The souls of the departed visit us on the wings of a monarch.

Together we sang, our melodies mingling, dancing across the treetops, over the vernal pool, and drifting into the woods.

Remember to love yourself as much as you do others.

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.

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

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.

Ah yes, we are resilient and resourceful.

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

Here, in the fields of Marigold Moon, is a lovely pond.

No selfies or social media posts were available for drumming up prayers or GoFundMe platforms to offer financial support.

The song of the red-winged blackbird—sweet and clear—has strayed along the mountain path, finding its way home.

Alchemy [ al-kuh-mee ] Any magical power or process that transmutes a common substance, usually of little value, into a great deal of sense.