Mj Pettengill

Follow the ferns into the ancient past, the untold stories of the land.

It's all about remembering our instincts and long-forgotten wild ways.

There was light there, in the homeland of old stories, but not enough. I had been there too long.

Layers of rot and decay became raw—a rich scent of being—an invitation to pause and feel the silken grit all the way through to the bone.

One of the most essential elements of these healing gifts has been stitched into a higher awareness of my sense of belonging.

As we stumble along unfamiliar terrain, we begin to understand that we are not searching for a pot of gold. We are here for the rainbow.

There was reassurance in the remnants of stone walls. I found myself following them, hoping to find the stories to make sense of it all.

Sometimes I dream of a better world.

The red oil of the plant represents the blood of John the Baptist, allegedly martyred on June 29th...

I quickly remind myself that it's buggy because of all the various forms of wild water and vegetation.

I do know my way around the woods, but even the most experienced woods-woman will face unfortunate encounters.

The grass has been mortally wounded and is trying to protect itself while sounding the alarm.

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.

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.