The Garden Path that Loops Back Round

There’s something about a spring walk in Norfolk that invites a little getting lost. Not in a stressful way—just that delicious kind of lost where the map doesn’t matter, and the path seems to play tricks. This time last year, my friend Claire and I set out for a walk around Roydon and Congham, thinking we’d follow a circular route. But the woods had other plans.

We ended up weaving through the same patch of woodland three, maybe four times, each time convinced we’d found the right track. By the end, we were laughing as we recognised the same tree and the same dead end—again. It all led us, eventually, up to Bawsey Church, perched quietly above the fields, and once featured in a Time Team episode. There’s something satisfying about ending a walk at a place with a story.

But the part I’ve been thinking about most came just before we finished. Outside one of the houses we passed was a little honesty stall—those wonderful, unassuming slices of Norfolk generosity. On it, a tray of bleeding heart plants. I didn’t buy one on the spot, but I couldn’t stop thinking about them. The next day, I persuaded Mr H to drive us back so I could rescue two. They’re now planted on my doorstep and Claire’s too—twin reminders of a walk filled with laughter, greenery, and getting just a little bit lost.

This time of year always makes me notice the garden paths—the real ones, winding between flowerbeds, but also the metaphorical ones. Those gentle, meandering thoughts that appear when you're walking. The unexpected turns that bring stories to your door.

In that spirit, I’ve been revisiting my Through the Garden Gate collection  . It’s full of the sort of things you find just beyond the hedge—flowers, buzzing bees, the promise of summer afternoons and gardens brimming with life. If you’ve got a favourite bloom or a green-thumbed memory, I’d love to hear it. . It’s full of the sort of things you find just beyond the hedge—flowers, buzzing bees, the promise of summer afternoons and gardens brimming with life. If you’ve got a favourite bloom or a green-thumbed memory, I’d love to hear it.

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