Life has changed recently in the most unexpected ways.

Last year we visited a woodland in Devon with a small 2 bedroom thatched cottage hidden down a long track. Never did I think that a year later we would have moved in and be calling it our home.

Right before we moved, and shortly after my last post, I also fell pregnant. I’ve never felt especially maternal and, although it wasn’t an accident, stepping into motherhood hasn’t come entirely naturally to me. I’ve given myself time in the garden (no surprise there) to arrive at this new chapter gently. I think I’ve found my footing now – we’re less than two months away – though I know it’s only the beginning of the journey.

All of this growth has demanded patience. None of it has arrived fully formed or immediately certain. It has taken time to settle and get used to.

In the garden, growth is something that happens slowly – through the time and quiet care we offer it – without knowing when, or if, it will return itself to us.

Perhaps that’s why the garden has always felt like such an honest place to me – because nothing there ever pretends that growth is quick.

When we got the call to say it had all gone through, we jumped in the Luton van we’d hired – packed with all our things – and drove the 3 hours from Oxfordshire to Devon.

By the time we arrived, it was pitch black.

We made it halfway down the track before getting stuck behind an overhanging branch. We abandoned the van, grabbed the nearest thing we could find to sleep in and found the cottage using the lights on our phones. I lay awake on that first night on a deflating lilo in the freezing cold trying to sleep, unsure if we’d made the right decision.

We’ve chosen a different style of life. There’s no central heating. Our cooking and hot water come from a wood-fired ray burn and our nearest neighbour is over half a mile away.

But deep down I know this is right.

This place makes sense of me. And with every day that passes, I learn more about it.

Somehow, I know I belong here. It’s not an obvious kind of knowledge, it’s more a lack of questions and a calm feeling that makes me feel like I’m home.