Amethyst Stars.

Seven years ago I purchased two plants and planted them together in the same pot. Being still the very inexperienced gardener then, I experimented myself to knowledge and made a few mistakes along the way - as to be expected.

One of the plants completely vanished in the end of the summer, the other kept on going all the way until the first frost in late November. I knew both were perennials, as it said so on the little tags that accompanied the plants. Thus I just let the survivor stand outside during winter, hoping for the best, yet watching it sadly as it slowly dried out, to eventually burn away by subzero temperatures, perishing into only a bundle of yellow stalks. And I said to myself - 'well this was another bad mistake I wont repeat again'.

In the spring the following year, as I was getting ready to toss the seemingly dead plant out, I saw small buds and green shoots appearing here and there, signifying new life. My heart skipped a beat as I became overcome with joy. Trimming away way the perished parts, I watched the plant grow and flourish, blooming with beautiful violet blue star-like flowers during the whole summer.
This continued year after year and I kept wondering how this incredibly resilient flower can come back after tough conditions, such as a few arctic winters with months of deep freeze, renewing itself annually with will and determination in the same pot, with no new soil added ever to nurture its growth...

I must admit that I do use a mild fertilizer during the summer watering, yet it is still astounding that this plant can keep growing stronger as time progresses. I never knew its name and finally now after endless and tedious research I realize it was called campanula (birch hybrid). I simply had to know, as this summer season the plant is the most stunning to date. I have never seen it flowering this magnificently - it truly thrives in our new home.

Covered fully and completely by amethyst coloured stars, it reinforces my belief in the miracle of nature and in the endless beauty of plant life.

My Campanula anno 2012

My Campanula, in July 2005, just planted with it's "yellow" friend

Secret Garden.

I grew up in apartments and thus when I purchased my first house, I had no experience in gardening. Furthermore, I had no true inclinations or any kind of emotional or practical association with a garden, not even plants. It was my mom and my sister who had the green thumb, not me. All I recall from my childhood was my mother tending to the few potted plants we had at home, changing the dirt in the spring on our balcony or patio.

My parents did live for a few years in a townhouse with a tiny backyard, which they slowly transformed into a tranquil hideaway. By that time I no longer lived at home and thus could follow the progress in growth and development every time I came to visit.
Therefore fueled by my parents enthusiasm, the two terraces of my former home became a play ground for me in terms of my gardening experimenting.

I can in no way claim to be an experienced or skillful gardener, a far cry from that I must admit. The limited knowledge I posses today was born mostly out of my mistakes. If anything, I am a perceptive gardener - I go with my feelings and intuition. Additionally I follow one simple advice I heard once spoken by an expert on a garden television show;  give a plant food, water and sun - or no sun, depending on its natural habitat.
Indeed in time I realized that is really all one needs to know. Taken together with a joy, interest and genuine love for plant life, anyone can tend to a garden and make it flourish and prosper.

The garden of my dreams is a wild and untamed one, almost a secret garden. A lush and secluded spot, which when entered feels enchanted. I am not a fan of meticulously maintained flowerbeds and trimmed bushes. To me the most beautiful is that which gets to grow free and unrestricted, creating tranquil oases, hidden from view, scented by natural perfumes. One day perhaps I will have my dream come true - until then I tend to the garden of my reality. And without any doubt, it is the only real asset of our old house.

Despite the fact that my father in law is an avid and extremely skillful gardener, my husband has no interest whatsoever in plants. To him gardening is just a bunch of boring chores, such as mowing the lawn and trimming the hedge. Thus when I moved in with him, I got the freedom and privilege to do whatever I pleased when it came to our yard.

To transform a neglected place to a lovely garden takes years and we might not even live here by then. Still, currently the outdoors offers the best therapy and seems to be the perfect recipe to cure my temporary sadness and loneliness. There is nothing like planting something and watching it grow and thrive. I take immense joy in looking after the plants and I survey them each day, looking for small changes that might have occurred over night. It gives me such a great satisfaction when the sun is out and I can tend to all the life that seems to spire and excel outside my home.

I can sense that our garden has already been established once, I only had to revive that which was already there - a multitude of roses, lilies, hollies, hollyhocks and scented shrubs. I added a few potted plants and flower baskets to our patio and planted a few vines to transform it into a lush and tranquil spot. I am also currently experimenting with seeds, which promise to grow into scented bloom attracting butterflies. Tending to our garden this way, I leave small souvenirs for the future occupants of the house. An imprint of my time here. Hopefully they will rejoice in the bloom I introduce just as I enjoy the the work of our predecessors. 

Gardening is like exercise - it must become a way of life, or it looses it's allure and is impossible to maintain. To me though there is nothing more magical than the outdoors. Plant and animal life and natural beauty holds almost a primal affection in my perception as the connection with nature is ancient and contained within my genes. I have always found solace and affirmation in its pristine beauty and will continue to see all natural life as an endless source of miracles and enchantment.

(All images in this post are taken in our garden, June 2012)

White House Revisited.

My man has a profession that requires him to routinely spend days, occasionally weeks and once in a while even months (sigh) away from home.
And away from me.

Currently he is away for ten days, the longest time we have been apart since we met and although I dislike this separation with all my being, I decided to stop obsessing about things I can not change and turn them into something positive instead. These departures of his will inevitably become part of my life, as they are a part of his. It is an occurrence that I will have to get used to and accept, because he has chosen this profession, one that he does with dedication and great skill and one that defines who he is.
A courageous man whom I love with all my heart and soul.

Determined to use my time alone the best I could, I opted for a day, an evening and a night on my own again, back at the white house.
My old home these days stands so abandoned and neglected, still for sale, but due to the frozen real estate market light years removed from the possibility of selling - thus it is in a desperate need of love and attention.

Working outside in the warm autumnal weather, bringing my terraces back to their former glory, felt as a vital therapy. Later in the evening, I enjoyed the warmth of the fire, that one single thing that I miss deeply in my new home. Inhaling the scent of burning wood and incense, while watching the fall sun set in my westbound views brought on moments of soothing tranquility and deep relaxation.

Yet, the experience very quickly lost its allure and as soon as darkness enveloped the world, I felt a strong urge to drive back home - as certainly my white house no longer felt as such for me.
Instead, it has become now a residence away from home, a tranquil retreat, one that can bring me seclusion if I ever yearn for it. It can offer a time for me only, a solitude that is unforced and chosen, one that is only temporary - long enough to be enjoyed, but short enough not to feel too impeding.

When I left the house the next morning, it was with a sense of satisfaction, not sadness. Even though I enjoyed this momentary solitude, I knew without a doubt that my life was no longer there and I had no desire whatsoever to retaliate to my old existence again. I would never want to wish it back - it has become my past and my entire being longed passionately to return to my loving present.

I smiled with amusement as I locked the door, glancing back at my former home, pondering that one single fact - despite being currently as poor as a church mouse, I feel as the richest woman in the world.

A Brief Sense Of Spring.

Today is bitterly cold.
I woke up to the first morning with subzero temperatures since mid January. Lady Winter is back from her intermission, which came across almost as an early departure.

Still, as we wait for February snow to cover our landscape white once more, the mild, albeit foggy and humid air which has been dominating our forecast for the last twenty days brought about a brief sense of spring. The stalks of the early flowers were seen relentlessly pushing upwards and at times the early bird song resonated a joy, the one that made me feel nature was a month ahead.

My front patio displayed only a few days back the first beauty of the resilient and yet so tender yellow crown of the Eranthis flower, just about to burst into bloom. I am sure this progress has now been abruptly interrupted and hate to contemplate what the plummeting temperatures will do to this lovely plant.

Last weekend however still truly felt like spring and thus I did the first gardening of the year, cutting back the dried up clematis, its climbing vines rigid and brown, seemingly so very lifeless. Upon closer look though, a multitude of buds were already in full sight, usually a sign prompting the annual early trimming of this late summer blooming beauty.

Winter is not over yet and Spring - although not that distant - is still far removed from our perception. However, the first season is slowly running out of time and we all know that good things comes to those who wait.
Thus lets wait just a little bit longer.

Perennials And Evergreens.

I have two terraces or patios connected to my house; a front terrace and a back one. They are both tiled and big enough to house many pots. I love to plant seasonal flowers, from spring to autumn, but my favorites are my perennial plants and my evergreens. They can grow in their pots for many years, always remaining green and luscious, giving the outdoors a feel of an exotic garden.

However, even though these are very sturdy plants and can withstand our winters quiet well, they too have a breaking point. This past winter with its record breaking prolonged subzero temperatures was simply too cold for my potted evergreens and most of them perished, to my great dismay. It breaks my heart every time I see a plant die. To me it is as alive as any animal and I love to see plants and flowers grow and flourish. While taking care of them for years and seeing them do well, they in a way become my very good friends.

Thus I have been with certain distress watching my old perennials, which over the past few weeks grew weaker, gradually loosing all their foliage and drying out. My herbs seemed to have met the same fate. Except for the hardy chives, all my other herbs sadly failed to make their seasonal come back.

Yesterday was an official day off and I decided it was time for a plant renewal, therefore I spend my free Friday visiting the local garden center.
I love walking around in these large plantations, filled with flowers, shrubs, bushes and even trees. There is always an earthy, rich fragrance of soil in the air, mixed with the scent of seasonal flowers. I can spend hours just walking around there, relishing in the tranquility and the serenity that is always so significant of these beautiful spots.

I returned home with many fresh plants and spend my afternoon doing what I love to do the best; feeling the rich soil between my fingers and bringing a sense of renewal to my garden, while I parted with many of my old friends...

My Cherry Laurel.

Today is a windy, chilly spring day. Clouds are moving across the sky with incredible speed and being outside is anything but pleasant.
This is in such a contrast to yesterday, in fact to the whole week, which was sunny and relatively warm. Typically, as soon as weekend arrives, the weather shifts.

The skies are covered by clouds, but devoid of anything else. The air space is completely clear and has been over 48 hours. Due to the presence of volcanic ash in the atmosphere, almost all airports in Northern Europe (Denmark included) are closed and all airplanes are grounded. This is the largest shut down of airspace in Europe ever.

I decided that today I would prune my Cherry Laurel. This beautiful shrub is my pride and joy. It lines my front patio, a beautiful, serene spot where the morning sun offers tranquil moments while I sip my morning coffee.
It consists of four plants - two planted in the autumn of 2004 and two additional ones in spring 2005. They were barely 40 cm long at that point and has since then grown beyond recognition. I love these evergreens, that are luscious and green year around. Comes May, they bloom with fragrant white flowers.

Unfortunately, the hardest winter on record has severely affected this resilient plant. In March I noticed many leaves were turning brown and by last week this frost damage became very palpable. This is to be expected, as we had subzero temperatures for months at end this winter.
I remembered with joy the beauty of the cherry laurel just a year ago. It was at it's most magnificent, the growth was tight and strong, the plant was extremely healthy. Today it looks week and fragile.
I trimmed it back quiet drastically, particularly the oldest plants, hoping that this will spur its growth once again, making it as stunning and striking as it was last year.

Gentle Spring.

Easter is slowly reaching its end. I have enjoyed the holidays and the short, but absolutely vital break away from work and the virtual world. The weather has been as mixed as one traditionally expects from the month of April. Almost a true cliché in fact; anything from hail and storm to a beautiful, warm sunshine.

The onset of a new month brings renewal in our nature in a very obvious way. Gone are the frosty nights and the sun grows stronger and more majestic by each passing day. It has added over six hours to our daylight. This means we are half way through the light increase before reaching the shortest night of the summer solstice.

My patio is changing as well. I did the first significant gardening of this year, taking care of my shrubs and bushes, trimming away dead branches of clematis, making it ready for its new season. I planted a few yellow pansies and multi-coloured violets, which add further life to my west facing patio. My daffodils are still only barely in bloom while crocuses are reaching their peak and slowly, the stalks of tulips and hyacinths are pushing through the soil.

This past Saturday the winds changed. A chilly breeze from east brought dry air and with it a pristine, bright sunny day. The first true spring day.
My terrace, completely shielded and drenched in sunshine became a tranquil oasis for the first time this year. As I sat on my sun chair covered in blankets, breathing in the fresh air and relaxing in the warmth of the sun, I relished in all the gentle beauty of spring that surrounded me in colours and scents. The life so palpable everywhere made me smiled with amusement as I recalled the massive snow blanket that used to cover this same spot just a few weeks ago.

The Time Of Crocuses.

This past week marked the true beginning of the reign of Spring in southern Scandinavia. With temperatures in the late 50's, nature visibly turns green and the first flowers are at last in bloom.

Today was a sunny but chilly day, in contrast to a warm and very rainy night. As I did the first gardening of the season, I marveled over the progress that is so visible in my small garden. All the bulbs I planted in October are sprouting. Some are just barely pushing through the dirt, such as tulips, while hyacinths and daffodils display fresh and green stalks.

The only flowers in bloom are crocuses.
I simply love this first real flower of the spring. So resilient, yet so fragile, it appears so enchanted, as it pushes through the remains of the last snow already in early February. Clearly able to withstand frost and growing through ice, it is a miracle of nature in my eyes. At all times a sign of life, it is a consolation when spring is still very elusive and sun barely present. And then, when the sun returns with the vernal equinox, it displays beautiful crowns that turn toward the first sunshine, bursting with yellow, blue, purple or white, so symbolic of renewal and joy of new beginnings.

Today, when I uncovered the last sprouting bulbs, by removing old autumns leaves and protective bark - I found a butterfly.
It looked tired and fragile, fluttering its wings, drinking the warmth of the spring sun. I could easily pick it up and relished close up in its beauty. A rare moment in time, so unreal in the height of summer when this gentle being will never stand still long enough to admire. Within minutes, as the butterfly absorbed enough heat from my hand, it lifted its wings and gained altitude, drifting away from my view on a gentle spring breeze...

And so it begins, the best time of the year is here.

Autumn Garden.

Today we are experiencing the first autumn storm. The west coast is being pounded by hurricane winds and hard rain while we in the east feel the force of this storm in the violent gusts that rip through the trees outside and make my chimney howl.

In my mind and my pictures I rather revisit yesterday. It was one of the most beautiful autumn days on record. Sunny, cool, wind still. The air was fresh and nature bursting with colours. It was my day off and became one of those days when everything is just right. I spend most of my Friday outside, tending to my garden an terrace, an activity I enjoy immensely. I purchased fall flowers and plants, such as Heather and plenty of evergreens, which are hardy enough to survive the winter. And of course a pumpkin as October is not right without one. I also planted a plethora of spring bulbs, hoping to be greeted by multitude of Crocuses, Tulips, Daffodils and Hyacinths comes February-March.

When I look out onto my backyard as I write this, I can not believe the difference one day can make. As the rain is pounding at my window panes, and the hurricane force gusts forces the tress almost to level with the ground, the below picture collage seems almost unreal.

Trimming Boxwood.

In August the plants in my garden are in the end of their growing season. The most abundant of them at this point is the lovely Caprifolium that is blooming with hundreds of flowers. It is as if it knows that the days are getting shorter and tries eagerly to capture whatever remains of the warm August sun.

Usually, during this last month of the summer, I trim all my evergreens. The bushes lining both my terraces have by now ceased to grow and need to be prepared for winter. They can still be trimmed all the way until October, but before the arrival of the first frost.

I also have two Boxwood plants. This is also an evergreen, very common plant/bush in Scandinavia, as it is very sturdy and grows without trouble in our temperate climate. It can withstand the long winters and is often used in parks, where it can be formed into shapes for decoration.
One of the Boxwoods I own was given to me by my parents. It was initially growing in their own garden, while they still lived in Sweden. A few years back they uprooted it and brought it here and planted it on my terrace as a gift . It was very small at that point and has grown a lot over the years. I have cut it back each season, but have always been a bit unsure about how to trim it. My other Boxwood has a naturally round shape and has been trimmed into a form of a ball every August. But I never knew how to trim my parents plant.

This year I drastically cut it back a lot. I decided to form it in to a shape of a cube. At first I was a bit worried that I cut it way to much, but now I think the trimming was definitely an improvement.

Scented Garden.

Every time I travel during the summer months, I become very anxious about one thing - leaving my garden behind. Strange but true.
My garden is my meditation spot and I tend to it from the moment the first bulbs sprout in the very early spring until late autumn, when the time to plant spring bulbs arrives. In fact, as I have mentioned before, the very first thing I do every morning, no matter the season, right after hugging Batcat, is to look out of my large windows onto my terrace. I love all my plants and I follow them through out the year, through all their changes and transformations. I strongly feel that no one can really understand how to tend to them as well as I do. Which is probably most likely true.
This year was no exception. As soon as I arrived back fro my trip, the first thing I did was to rush outside to inspect all my plants. This time around, I left my house, Batcat and my garden in the care of good friends/co-workers and upon my return I was anything but disappointed. The garden did not only survive, it has become luscious and green and some of the plants have grown beyond recognition.

I have two shrubs or bushes, lining my terrace, which fill the warm summer air with heavenly aroma. One of them is Caprifolium, better known in English as Honeysuckle and the other one I am sorry but I fail to identify, as it came with the house. I have been told it is a type of Jasmine as it blooms with very fragrant, white, rose-like flowers in June. Honeysuckle usually blooms twice, once in June and a second time in late August-September. It is usually the last plant that still have flowers in the end of the summer season.

This year both plants are simply magnificent. The Honeysuckle is covered with scented blossoms to the bursting point and the Jasmine perfumes the air like never before.
Sitting underneath these shrubs during a sunny summer day or on a warm summer evening is just one of many simple pleasures that clearly defines the core of happiness in my book.

Easter Sunday.

Another beautiful day is reaching its end here in southern Scandinavia. Just like yesterday, it will offer a sunset out of this world - this one was taken yesterday when light cloud cover covered the setting sun.
I have been told, that if I ever wanted to sell my house (which will most likely never happen), I should decorate the walls with the multitude of sunset pictures I have captured out of the living room window over the years. Everyone who has experienced the sunsets from the house told me, that would guarantee a sale in no time.

Today I weeded the back terrace and I could not help but notice how much everything has changed since yesterday. Again over night. Particularly my clematis. I love those climbing plants, as they turn from nothing to something so stunning, it is close to unbelievable. Within a few months, this plant goes from a bunch of empty sticks to a green veil full of cobalt blue flowers. I have decided to post a weekly picture of the growth progress every Sunday, to show how beautiful it will get once we reach August.
The pictures below prove the statement I made yesterday, that is how growth can be watched over night. These are pictures of the growing clematis; note that the second picture was taken yesterday and the third one today. If you look closely, the difference is clearly visible (please click on the picture to enlarge).

Summerlike Easter.

We have had a continuous string of warm days. It has been a rare two weeks, with sunny days and the occasional shower in the night. I can see the nature changing in front of my eyes. I love this time of the year, when every single morning I can look out onto my garden and see that something new has sprouted, in what seems, just over night.
We have had the warmest April beginning on record and also the warmest Easter on record as well.
Today I worked many hours trying to remove the weed on my front terrace; it is painstaking job as the terrace is tiled and in between the tiles something unwanted always grows. However, this year I truly enjoyed it as the weather was gorgeous.
I also took out my coffee table set; this usually means that summer is approaching fast.
Both my terraces are filled with ladybugs. I could not resist making a little collage of the many beautiful tiny red "pearls" that decorate my many flower beds and pots.
Hoping everyone is having a wonderful Easter weekend.

Spring Equinox.

This week has been weather-wise the most beautiful week I can remember for a really very long time. Today is spring equinox, meaning the day has caught up with the night and they are both equally long. This is also considered the first true spring day.

Considering that I have made progress in my work and the fact that the weather has turned, I decided to take a "mental health day", as I used to call them while living in the US. "A day off" to sooth my mind and soul. So today has been my kind of Friday.

What does such a day look like?

I slept long and enjoyed a good cup of coffee while reading the newspaper.


I took a drive by the ocean.





The drive took me to the city where I took a walk.
Later I stopped by the post office to pick up a package containing long awaited summer fashion.
On the way home I went by the store to pick up my weekly groceries.

When I returned to the house, my weekly surface mail from Ireland was in the mail box, waiting for me.

And now I am off to do some gardening and to enjoy the wonderful spring weather, as in these parts of Europe one never knows how long it will last. Happy Friday everyone.;)

Spring Signs.

At last, the winter has officially ended. March is the first spring month, at least in the Northern hemisphere. Although in reality, this far up north, winter can hang around until April; still spring signs are now everywhere.

Yesterday I uncovered all my sprouting spring flowers; I removed the fallen autumn leaves and the left over spruce branches from my Christmas tree, that were laid over to protect the delicate stalks that were growing impatiently already in January.
The Crocuses are almost in bloom, as are the beautiful yellow Eranthis, the first flowers of the spring. In the process I found many beautiful ladybugs, that seem to have chosen to spend their diapause in the warmth generated by the decaying leaves.

In some ways, even though it is still cold and the threat of snow is in the air, I love this time of the year. It is a time full of promise and expectation, almost an awakening of the nature in every way. The days are getting significantly longer - at this point almost 4 hours since the winter solstice. The first pollen is now in the air and before we know it, winter will, once again, be left in the past.

A Garden And A Movie.

Today, for the first time in ages, or what felt like EVER, I got to see sun once again. I awoke to blue skies and bright sunshine and was immediately in a good mood. The day also felt brighter. As the sun keeps moving higher up in the sky, the intensity of light changes as well. Already now we have one hour more light and the light quality is different as well.

I enjoyed my lazy Sunday morning with freshly baked bread roles and a cup of steamy hot coffee and watched "What happens in Vegas" with Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kutcher. I was positively surprised, as the movie was really entertaining. It made me both laugh and cry, which is for me an indication of my kind of movie.

Later in the day I did my first gardening of the season. I have two clematis plants, which are a type of a climbing plant, growing attached to a fence around my terrace. They grow amazingly fast comes April - May and in July - August flower with the most amazing flowers. In order for the plant to indeed flower, it is necessary to trim it in February. The plant is cut down to about 30cm above ground and the old dried out stalks and leaves are removed. Even tough the clematis looks dead, already now there are many buds sprouting from the dry stalks; a clear sign that it needs to be trimmed.

It felt really good to be out in the fresh, crisp air and feel the sunshine on my face. Every time I cut down my clematis, I know we are getting closer to spring. And that is a very good feeling.;)