Summer Blackberries

We’ve moved to the suburbs;

evening walks are filled

with the silhouettes of tall trees

against the darkening sky,

their simple elegance poignant enough

to make me want to paint them.

As we walk along the winding sidewalks

and down the forest-lined road,

we are surrounded by the smell

of summer blackberries

bountiful enough to make me 12 again—

a grinning girl in cut-off jeans

licking her berry-stained fingers

and rejoicing in being

at home in this world.

Just Breathe

There was another year of Covid,

but we crawled out of our caves

like newborn butterflies with sticky wings,

slow and hesitant in the spring sunshine.


We hoped to migrate to a new home

of our own, a fresh start…

but the inheritance was not enough.

Nevertheless the landlord said, “Go.”


A flutter of wings, a flurry,

a tiny hurricane of stress,

and searching, searching, searching

for a safe place to land.


A flying in the dark

—a trusting through blindness—

through not knowing at all

what was meant to be.


The summer sun swelled with heat

yet no shady dale

or safe valley dappled with sunshine

appeared—until it did.


And then it did.


Out of the concrete embrace

of the city we flew,

away from sirens and cement

towards the cedars and starlight.

Towards wind whispering in the fir trees,

the moon staring at me on my patio

and winking as I grin and grin

at the wonder of my new home.


And evenings filled with sunshine

sparkling in the sprinkler-kissed grasses

of the wildflower field

that is my unmowed back yard.

And glistening on the rosy skin

of my newborn daughter,

sleeping like a little wild nymph

in my joyful arms.

“And all is well

And all is well

And all manner of things

shall be well.”

Julian of Norwich

Trumpet of Joy

Deep-throated daffodil,

blast out your message of hope!

Rebel against the weariness of despair,

the back-breaking burden of seriousness,

the meticulous dissection of fearful plans.

Daffodil, shout!

None of the world’s noise is loud enough

to silence the sound of your wordless proclamation:

“Have hope, hope, hope!”

The grimy winter is grinding to a halt

and from the earth’s breast,

goodness is springing forth once again.

A world of grey is shattered

by one shard of green and yellow life.

Welcome to the World, Tiny Foot

Your tiny foot—

softer than a silky dog’s ear—

easily fits into the palm of my hand

as you nurse yourself into a cozy milk coma

and snuggle by my side.

Only a week ago,

that same foot

was pushing up against my ribs,

knocking on the door of my heart

as if to say,

“Mama, I’m ready to meet the world!”

And oh, Tiny Foot, how ready I was to meet you!

Baby has arrived! 🥰🤗

Hi everyone.

After a big wait, I’m happy to announce that my little baby boy was born last night, just before midnight. After a very slow pre-labour, things picked up with the help of some oxytocin (which wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be) and we filled the birthing tub at the hospital. About 40 minutes after climbing into that warm embrace of water, and holding off as long as I could to let my body prepare to release him without tearing, I gave a few big pushes, and there he was. A tiny little snuggly darling all covered in white vernix and snuggling on my chest.

After a few wet kisses to the top of his head, he got passed to his Daddy, to hold swaddled while I got dried off and into bed. After some anti-bleed medicine and some pain meds for after cramps, I was ready to hold my baby and eat my midnight meal, amazingly dropped off by our sweet friends Peter and Sophia at the hospital at 10:30 pm that night!

Here we are!

It doesn’t take baby boy long to wake up and smell the milk…and within minutes, he’s nursing like a little pro. See how he’s rooting already? 🤣

Here he is with his Daddy.

And a little close up. And now, I’m back to napping, nursing, snuggling and sleeping. Xoxo

Dancin’ to the finish line with baby #9…

Hello Everyone,

I’m here at the hospital, just waiting to move to a birthing room from the admitting room.

I had a nap while baby’s heart was being monitored…he’s happy and great. Then I ate some trail mix.

Seemed like a good time for a little ABBA dance party to help things move along!

It’s no velvet jumpsuit but my fuzzy bathrobe will have to do!

So I am thoroughly enjoying my day out with my lovely midwife. Hopefully tonight I’ll have some sweet baby pics to share with you all!

Thank you for all your love and prayers! 🥰

Cookies and Milk at 3 am

Of course, after admonishing our kids not to wake up too early for Christmas (they once woke up at midnight to open the stockings on the ends of their beds) it would be me, their mom, who woke up at 2:30 am and couldn’t get back to sleep. So silly, as the kids and I had worked so hard to prepare ahead, had finished wrapping and had even stuffed the stockings and stowed them in a box days ago, so I wouldn’t have to burn the midnight oil playing Mrs Clause. Yet I woke up. Was it pregnancy heartburn, excitement, or insomnia?

Whatever it was, I decided Santa’s tradition of the post-midnight snack was a good idea and got up to have an angel sugar cookie and a glass of milk. I’d say I had a snack with Santa, but you’d know from Google Santa Tracker that he was already safely back home in the North Pole by this hour.

So while I’m up, I thought I’d take this quiet moment chance to wish you all a very Merry Christmas, despite everything, and a lot of hope for better things to come in 2021. Thank you so much to all our family and friends who supported us from afar this year, as we went through the pandemic, and through the illness and loss of my Dad, Bob, to cancer. Your loving words, encouragement, cards, flowers or food dropped at our door have meant a lot.

Shortly after my Dad passed away, in the morning of November 9th, it began snowing, which is rare on the rainy coast. “Mum, Mum,” said the kids with excitement, “Grandpa is sending us snow from Heaven with Josephine!” It’s amazing how positive and resilient kids can be in the face of loss. Here are a few pictures from our house, where we have tried to find all the joy and sparkle we can this Advent.

May God in his humble nearness at Christmas surround you with blessings and give you the eyes to see them, so the little hidden miracles of each day can shine and bring you hope.

Lots of love from all the Eastlands here at Just East of Crazy Land! Thanks for being here, making me feel less alone as I eat cookies and milk at 3 am, and await the sparkly madness of Christmas morning with 7 kids! ✨🌲✨🎁✨🌲✨