Mj Pettengill

More stories are to be told as words flow downstream, not to be missed or forgotten.

I had sat by this pond for many years, and never had it been so wild, so forgiving, so clear and dark.

These flames are a gift bestowed upon me from Hestia, the goddess of the hearth and its fires.

Perhaps there is regret in feeling that there was not enough time to love all of what I love—not in the way that I know.

Throughout time, in many dire settings, I have learned that as divided as they appeared to be, people were often bound by their afflictions.

I no longer rely on princes, and frogs have more potential than what we learned in myths. They earned my respect in a much different manner.

As always, give thanks to every plant that volunteers to be an ally. The healing is mutual.

I followed the sparkling thread to that alluring place, showing me that the Garden of Eden is here, or it is there.

I was drawn to the giant pines—the elder council—that always beckon me.

It is time to reawaken all that is imaginable and buried deep in the bones of the land.

I returned to my rocking chair and sat on the back deck in my flannel nightgown until I felt like it.

Timing is everything. Hold onto that torch—your flickering light that is growing by the hour—and let it be your guide.

To me, especially after writing them into my life, crows are reassuring, wise, and a good omen.

Good health literally grows on trees. All you need to do is show up and be aware.

"You must rely on your instincts and be okay with things getting messy. After all, it’s not about how it looks on the outside..."

As maidens, we encountered enchanted places carpeted with a thick layer of vibrant moss—the sphere of death and rebirth.

Those who know me have often heard me say or write, “Trees are my people.” I am not joking.

Any references to plant medicine in my work are valid and practiced in my own world. I am that woman in the woods.

By reaching back to the child within, grasping her hand, and pulling her into a full embrace, I had discovered honest writing at its best.

Crafting a wild beverage such as this is simple. If you were blindfolded and tasted Sumac Lemonade, you would think it was true lemonade.