There is nothing quite like a good walk.

A chance to stretch the old legs, get a good dose of vitamin D (weather-permitting) and feel that beautiful fresh air all around.

There is one such walk that I love, so much so that I must have done it a thousand times.

I’ll help the little one with her shoes and helmet, pop on my trainers, grab her scooter and my bag and we’ll head out the door, down the road and onto the start of our favourite location.

Coy Pond Gardens can be accessed off Surrey Road or Coy Pond Road and follows The Bourne as it meanders through green lawns and giant rhubarb, under bright red Asian-inspired foot bridges.

tranquil scenes of a stream flowering through the lush grass in the town gardens

As we walk down past Coy Pond we head into Bournemouth Upper Gardens: a beautiful shaded walk, open to pedestrians and cyclists, and we catch glimpses of the river that glistens in the sunlight.

An abundance of beautiful trees of all shapes and sizes envelopes us. This is part of the Bournemouth Garden Tree Trail where we can identify a range of impressive trees with a helpful map guiding us through to the Central Gardens and Lower Gardens.

“Mummy, look at that giant red one!” the little one will exclaim, as she jumps off her scooter to feel the jagged bark, dwarfed by the huge canopy above.

Stunning tree towering over Bournemouth gardens on a sunny day

From Betula Nigra (River Birch) to the Pinus Patula (Mexican Weeping Pine) and the Pinus Pinaster (Maritime Pine) (or ‘wonky tree’, according to the little one), we soon find our senses overloaded. The dazzling heights mixed with the fresh pine scents send us into a woodland trance. We pretend we are pixies jumping from tree to tree to find more woodland creatures, admiring the postcard-worthy colourful flower beds along the way.

All the walking has made us hungry and with so many kiosks located in the lower gardens we find ourselves tempted by every flavour of ice-cream imaginable.

The walk home is a little more laboured, with fewer imaginary pixies and gasps at the scale of some of the monstrous trees.

We trudge uphill back to our home, the scooter squeaking along slowly, before eventually collapsing onto the sofa.

“I had a lovely day, Mummy,” she whispers. “Can we go and see the trees again soon?”

“Yes,” I reply, softly. “Of course we can.”

Mother and child enjoy a walk surrounded by tree's in Bournemouth Gardens

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