One of my recent acquisitions. It is called a medicine bag, from one of the native tribes of North America. A fascinating people, highly skilled in the use of plants' power. They too understand nature's essence as divine. So much… — Maryrose Wood Copy Share Image
“I take my metal canister of tea off the shelf. It is my own mixture of dried lavender blossoms and lemon balm, harvested from… — Maryrose Wood Copy Share Image
“If you have ever opened a can of worms, boxed yourself into a corner, ended up in hot water, or found yourself in a… — Maryrose Wood Copy Share Image
“The plants themselves gave me a cure for that: They taught me to bury myself when I need to regain my strength. It is… — Maryrose Wood Copy Share Image
“Call it professional interest. You see, Jessamine, love is a kind of poison; one of my favorite kinds, in fact. It infects the blood; it takes over the mind; it seizes dominion over the body. It amuses me to think of him pining for you. Aching for what he cannot have. The loneliness in his soul is festering like a… — Maryrose Wood Copy Share
“But was that not the task you set me? To defend the helpless against the strong?" "Indeed it was Master Weed. But who is to say who is helpless, and who is strong?" ….."If you seek the power to alter fate, you must also bear responsibility for the consequences. For you cannot change the fate of only one being; all… — Maryrose Wood Copy Share
In the words of Agatha Swanburne, founder of Swanburne Academy, 'Every book is judged by its cover until it is read.' — Maryrose Wood Copy Share Image
“It makes no difference what you wear, really. I'll put you in a dark grey. I believe I have some left over from a… — Maryrose Wood Copy Share Image
“Weed, are you familiar with the work of Carl Linnaeus? His Systema Naturae describes a classification system for all growing things.” Weed’s eyes dart… — Maryrose Wood Copy Share Image
“Most often they speak according to their kind – the deep rumble of oak, the whisper of the birch, or the singsong chant of the alder. The evergreen stands of pine have voices sharp as needles. But the forest can speak as one, when it must. When the trees so choose, they think with one mind. When there is danger,… — Maryrose Wood Copy Share
