What is that poem’s line… “…going out, I found, I was really going in.” Yes, John Muir had it right. Every time I head out to the woods, I find that I am really going in. I may be on the hunt for edible mushrooms, and though I sometimes come out empty-handed in foraged food, I never return without having seen some other beings who bring a smile to my face: a tiny white mushroom staircase hidden in a decaying stump; a red eft silently traversing the moist forest floor; a purple capped mushroom of unknown edibility – cause, hey – purple!
And now Freddy Mercury is in my head singing, “It’s a kind of magic.” Because in that moment, when you are looking for something or someone else, and some other wondrous being pops into your view-scape, you have to pause and delight in the world.

Sometimes, I am not even in the woods but inside my home, typing away on the computer when suddenly a wild visitor catches my attention – today it was a fawn passing my window. (“It’s a kind of magic.”) And I had to stop and gaze at this creature, this young neighbor, who was checking out the shrubbery. They were just minding their own business and did not seem to notice me peering at them through the window. Where was their mom? And this fawn has spots! In August! I have seen a few wee fawns with spots. Moms dropped them late in the season and I wonder how they will fare this winter – if they will be grown up enough to handle the snow and ice and predators.

Or I’m in my carport, heading to my car and watching a Carolina wren squawk and fret about. There must be a nest in here somewhere. (“It’s a kind of magic.”) Then, while in my car, mama wren swoops back in with a mouthful and flies to the… hanging basket? Really? Then I think about it. It is a safe spot, out of the way of predators. But really, a second clutch in the second week of August? How will the soon-to-be fledglings fare come fall? I did sneak a peek. There were 4 babes in a really unique nest tucked into my supplies basket which now I can’t remove items out of until the chicks have fledged.

Or when I’m driving on the back roads and a flock of turkeys catch my eye and I see 3 moms and their chicks navigating the tall grass and crossing the road. Always to get to the other side. (“It’s a kind of magic.”) It has been a marvel watching these chicks grow up as I drive back and forth from my morning swims across Ashfield Lake these last several weeks.

You know who else is magical? Wild Lettuce. The precursor to our domesticated lettuces can grow up 15’ tall (though normally 6-9’). I know this because I had one who decided to do just that at the side of my studio door. I found this individual to be enchanting – I mean how could you not be impressed by an herbaceous plant making their way towards the light and reaching such a height? They were my greeter for all my wild edibles workshops last year. Then a storm knocked them down. So I made medicine. I chopped up the leaves and stalk that had been reaching for the sun past the base of the roof, put them in a jar which I then filled with 100 proof vodka and let the potion steep for a month. Then I strained out the greens and had myself a good analgesic (pain reliever). When I am driving and my sciatica acts up, I take two dropperfuls and the pain dulls. For me, this tincture is a helpful alternative to ibuprofen – an allopathic medicine I tend to now avoid because I used to take it way too liberally for migraines and I don’t want to risk an ulcer in my middle-age (yes, a possible side-effect of taking too much ibuprofen). And you know, the darndest thing – that Wild Lettuce, the bottom third which was still standing at the door, grew more flowers and then seeded on the remaining stalk. (“It’s a kind of magic.”) I loved that individual and felt grateful for their healing powers and in return I felt loved back. Anytime I walked in or out of the studio door, I would greet Wild Lettuce by gently shaking one of their huge deeply lobed leaves – kind of like a way-overgrown dandelion leaf. When you break a leaf or the stalk, they exude a white milky sap, a type of latex, hence their genus Lactuca which means lac or milk in Latin. The stalk is green and sometimes purple-hued – not to be confused with a smooth stalk that is purple-splotched like Giant Hogweed or Poison Hemlock. Leafing is alternative. Flowers are tiny white to mauve or light purple composites – Wild Lettuce is in the Aster family. Their many green seedheads eventually open and parachute their seeds to a new location. We have several native New England species, the two I am most familiar with are Lactuca canadensis (tall lettuce or Canada lettuce) and Lactuca biennis (tall blue lettuce).

Now, when Wild Lettuce is just a wee plant you could sample the leaves, just take note that this flora is bitter. I mean really bitter. You can add tender young leaves to salads or sauté them. And though the genus (particularly “opium lettuce” native to Europe) has been known to contain some similar properties to opium, none in this genus are opiates nor addictive and that is exactly why they are safer to use for pain relief. (“It’s a kind of magic.”) If you decide you are interested in trying Wild Lettuce for pain relief, please do check with your local community herbalist on the flora’s benefits, cautions, and dosage. Wild Lettuce can act as a sedative though I have not experienced this at the dosage I take.

When you are out there in the world looking for something or someone, and some other being or phenomena crosses your view, take the time to pause. You just might find – “it’s a kind of magic.”

Arianna Alexsandra Collins, naturalist educator, poet, writer, wild edible enthusiast, and Wiccan High Priestess.

An edited version of this article appeared in the September 2026 edition of The Ashfield News.

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