Mj Pettengill

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.

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.

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 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.

After all, we did not have a playbook so, we made up the rules as we went along.

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

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

It is unnecessary to wait for what we perceive as the perfect opportunity or the right conditions.

Be worth coming home to out of desire, not desperation. Be the firm shelter, not the ruins.

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