It’s been a little quieter than usual around here over the last couple of weeks. Losing my granddaughter has taken a piece of my heart, and taking time to grieve, hold family close, and just be has been the only place I needed to be. In times like these, I’ve always found a quiet kind of comfort in the dirt. Step by step, I’ve been out under the Southland skies, throwing my energy into physical work and preparing the property for everything coming into bloom. What’s Happening

First, thank you so much to everyone who has been reaching out, checking in, and expressing interest in coming to visit. It is genuinely heartening to know there is so much enthusiasm for what I’m building here. However, I want to gently share an important update: the farm and workshop are not open to visitors, and will not be for at least another year. Why We Aren't Open Yet While automated posts have kept the background wheels turning online while I've been away dealing wit

There is a distinct reality to life in Southland during the tail end of winter, and it’s not always picture-postcard perfection. Stepping outside this morning, the ground is completely waterlogged with pools of standing water sitting heavy across the property. Stubborn patches of snow still refuse to melt because the chill refuses to loosen its grip, and a light, persistent rain is falling. It’s cold, it’s damp, and it makes you question why you ever thought moving to an old

The storm is howling outside the old church tonight, rattling the windows and making you feel every bit of how isolated and exposed this place can be. But storms are nothing new around here. People often ask how I ended up restoring this old, rundown building in Pukerau, clearing the land, and crafting natural tallow balms and plant-based serums. They look at the rustic setup and think it’s just a quiet lifestyle change. But there is a very deliberate purpose behind it all. W

Bruce the Sebastapol Goose and his Girls Every good country property needs a cast of characters, and it didn't take long for ours to arrive. Aside from the trusty heritage chocks we carted all the way from Dunedin, we soon welcomed Bruce the goose and his girls to the fold. Bruce and his ladies made their presence known very loudly from day one—honestly, they are better than any guard dog on the planet. Not long after, we added a small line of Indian Runner ducks to the lands

When you are trying to reclaim a piece of land from the wilderness, you accept that nature is a partner in the process—sometimes a challenging one. Just as I was making headway with clearing the ground for the new herb garden, October 2025 delivered a stark reminder of who is really in charge. We had received warnings that strong winds were on the way, but it had already been blowing a gale for weeks, so it was easy to become complacent. Then, the storm hit. In just 22 minute

The large and overgrown rhododendron on the left of the driveway. Every garden has a history, but some begin with a dramatic clearing away of the past. When I first looked at the strip running up the side of my driveway, it was hard to envision anything flourishing. Massive, overgrown rhododendrons had taken over, tangled inextricably with thick, aggressive blackberry canes. Not only were they blocking out the light, but they had also grown right up through the power lines—a

When we first arrived at Pukerau Church, we were truly starting with the barest of basics. There was no hot water—just a small tank that loved to overflow if you forgot to turn it off—and an outside toilet. For the first few weeks, we relied on my son’s bus, which had a gas shower, to get by. Resourcefulness became our daily uniform. I immediately hooked up our dishwasher because it heated its own water for the dishes, giving us our first small win. But I knew we needed a per

We thought we were being clever, timing our move for the middle of spring, figuring the worst of the Southland winter was safely behind us. We were wrong. Leaving Dunedin behind, the shift in pace hit us almost immediately. We popped into town on a Sunday to grab supplies, only to realize we had truly stepped back in time. Most local businesses were closed, and supermarkets didn't even open until 10:00 AM. As we headed out of town, our modern rush-hour mindset was given a gen

Every restoration project has a starting point, but ours didn't begin with a shovel, a blueprint, or a cleared patch of land. It began on a raw, freezing day in the middle of winter, standing before an old church that had seen better decades. It all started back in Dunedin when I looked at my husband, who was facing a terminal cancer diagnosis, and asked him a simple question: Did he want to go on one last adventure? Our adventure turned out to be Pukerau. The moment we arriv