Precerpt from In with the East Wind: A Mary Poppins Kind of Life - Blueberry Hill Farm


Precerpt (excerpt prior to publication from the forthcoming memoir, In with the East: A Mary Poppins Kind of Life by Dr. Betty Lou Leaver

Blueberry Hill Farm

Blueberry Hill Farm sat just up the hill from our family farm in Acton—walking distance, if you were local, maybe half a mile or so. The entrance was a long dirt road that wound its way along the hilltop, eventually opening onto wide, sun-drenched fields of domestic blueberry bushes, their rows neat and generous. It was a commercial farm back then, owned by the Robinson family, a kind and upright clan whose patriarch had done more good in his lifetime than most people ever hear about. I liked working for him. He encouraged me. And he especially liked my sister—she was a natural, one of the best blueberry pickers around.

As kids, we started with pea picking, the domain of the younger crowd, ages five to fourteen. But once we hit our teens, we graduated to blueberries, which required more finesse. You had to know how to coax the ripe berries off the branch without disturbing the green ones. It was a skill, and we learned it by doing.

Years later, I returned with a friend. By then, Mr. Robinson was long gone—may he rest in peace—and the farm had become a pick-it-yourself operation. The new owners found it easier and more profitable to let customers do the harvesting. My friend and I spent about fifteen minutes in the bushes. My pail was full. Hers had barely a layer at the bottom. She was picking one berry at a time, delicately. I smiled and showed her the old way: a gentle tug, just enough pressure to let the ripe berries rain down into the bucket, leaving the unripe ones behind. The instinct was still there. Muscle memory. A quiet pride.

These were domestic blueberries, larger and sweeter than the wild low-bush and high-bush varieties we used to forage in the forest for freezing and fun. I love both kinds. To this day, I have blueberries nearly every morning for breakfast. They grow here too, though we rarely get the domestic kind—and certainly not the plump, sun-fed giants I used to pick at Blueberry Hill Farm.

That hilltop patch wasn’t just a place to earn a few dollars. It was a place where we learned to work, to trust our hands, and to feel capable. The Robinsons gave us that. Blueberry Hill gave us that. And every morning, with my bowl of berries, I remember.

Book Description:

From the barefoot freedom of rural Maine to the diplomatic halls of Central Asia, from rescuing a dying child in Siberia to training astronauts in Houston and Star City, In with the East Wind traces an extraordinary life lived in service, not strategy.

Unlike those who chase opportunity, the author responded to it—boarding planes, crossing borders, and stepping into urgent roles she never sought but never declined. Over 75 years and 26 countries, she worked as a teacher, soldier, linguist, professor, diplomat, and cultural ambassador. Whether guiding Turkmen diplomats, mentoring Russian scholars, or founding academic programs in unlikely places, her journey unfolded through a steady stream of voices asking: Can you come help us?

Told through an alphabetical journey across places that shaped her—from Acton, Maine to Uzbekistan—this memoir is rich with insight, adventure, and deep humanity. At its heart lies the quiet power of answering the call to serve, wherever it may lead.

Like Mary Poppins, she drifted in with the East Wind—bringing what was needed, staying just long enough, and leaving behind transformation. Then she returned home, until the next wind called.



 From the forthcoming book:

In with the East Wind...A Mary Poppins Kind of Life
Volume 1: ABC Lands

by Dr. Betty Lou Leaver

For more posts about this book, click HERE.

For more posts by and about Betty Lou Leaver, click HERE.


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