Mj Pettengill

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

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

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

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

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

Although there is much ado about it in health-food stores, this magical plant is somewhat overlooked and unacknowledged in its habitat.

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

I love this plant so much that I grow it indoors all year long.

The very ancient ones are our guides. It is up to us to awaken to them.

When my son was a little boy, he found a rock.

When a great divide becomes as vast as an ocean between us, decide that your anchor is a sail

...bringing me home to Cold River.

Communicating with plants is a gift that I cherish.

How can you not love such darlings with their fat little cheeks full to exploding with nuts and seeds?

We will find each other again and again, suspended between the wildness of Heaven and Earth...

It is time to rest, to reflect on the past season, find the creative, dark womb, and curl up beside the fire.

The apple trees in the horse pasture behind the barn of my childhood were abundant with wildly imperfect apples.

Within a few days, it was perched on the branch beside the nest, bringing back memories of when my own children prepared to leave...

My pilgrimage has taken me beyond the mediocrity of the everyday world.

I understand the significance of staying on the path. Although, getting lost in the woods has brought about countless valuable lessons.