Seeking refuge

After a bit of gardening, including digging up the red hot poker, I went on a mini safari. Winderwath Gardens had put up a sign saying ‘gooseberries’ the other day and I’d been meaning to explore that way for ages so I cycled over. A curious, lost in time sort of spot. Not a soul around and a house fit for Miss Havisham with long, drawn drapes across the windows and a sign in the courtyard saying ‘ring the bell’. I hardly dared, but with no-one to be seen I did in the end, but still no-one appeared. I gave up and headed off to explore the paths by Hornby Hall. The skies darkened, my little legs peddled fast and I sped up to the shelter of a wall with what I thought was black plastic at the base. But no, it was a whole row of dead corvids. There’s no way round it, this area has a touch of The Shining about it sometimes. Slightly freaked I carried on past the woods, half expecting glistening eyed, half crazed hillbillies to run out. Instead, the farmer bore down on his quad, laughing at me sheltering under a tree. In a brief break in the shower, I decided to seek the refuge of Ninekirks - extra taken when I emerged back into the sunshine ... a fascinating church and history.
Last time I was here was another adventure... https://www.blipfoto.com/entry/2708803671730162530

On my way back, determined to get me, the farmer appeared again, this time with reinforcements, a shedload of sheep were bearing down on me. I backed up against the wall of the narrow track with the bike in front of me and they shot past. This time he stopped to speak. I was appreciated for my considerate sheep positioning strategy and quizzed as to where I was from and it turns out he was from the far north of Scotland but had been farming near Thetford before moving here. We exchanged Norfolk talk and then I headed home collecting some elderflower as I went and got in just before the next really heavy showers.
Planted up the new bed with squash, broad beans and sprouting broccoli.