Four Seasons Of A Tree.

Perhaps some of you recall my fascination with a beautiful silver birch, which I could watch outside the windows of my old house.
I documented its changes over the course of a year in pictures and found the reward for watching a tree during the various seasons to be priceless.

Little did I know then that the tree would be cut down by my neighbours a few years later, to my shock and disbelief. Thus my photography is all that remains as a testimony to its existence...

Therefore I was thrilled to find a birch in the front garden of my new home and have likewise captured its changes throughout the past summer and autumn, from green to bare.
This spring I returned with camera in hand to document its awakening and the results can be seen in the pictures below, including a shot I took in winter as well, concluding its yearly cycle.

I love to watch the swaying of its branches outside our kitchen window. This birch can not match the beauty of the one I used to feast my eyes on in my former home. Yet it is ours and as long as we live here, it is safe. Its presence grants me the privilege to follow the natural transformations throughout the seasons, as they pass my views with uncanny precision and reassurance.

(Please click images for a larger view) 

Midsummer Night.

We have crossed yet another seasonal threshold.
The day of the Summer Solstice is such an enchanting occurrence and yet it also instigates a gentle melancholy in me.

June is signified by the duality of Gemini and thus the first summer day reflects too a joy and simultaneously a sadness. A pinnacle of light has been reached – even though summer is only beginning; the sun now embarks onto a reverse journey away from us, shortening our daylight by each passing week...

Ever since my move north a year ago, I rarely thought about the stunning vistas at the white house - yet I do so very much currently and I truly miss them...
Gone is the unrestricted view of the horizon, the mesmerizing late night sunsets, which set the heaven on fire, the beauty of the illuminated midnight sky and the enticing glow of noctilucent clouds - these light shows played out in front of my windows almost every day through out the summer - year after year, never to loose their allure.

Our low lying house has no extraordinary views to speak off. The only sign telling me we are indeed amidst the time of the white nights are our solar lamps and lanterns, decorating the shielded patio and glowing silently yet persistently in the dusk that has replaced the nights.

And yet, stepping out into our garden in the stillness of the midnight twilight, I can nevertheless trace the silvery sky beyond the treetops and gaze mesmerized at the starless heavens above me as we cross into the small hours of the morning. Unmistakably, the air holds an aura of enchantment and one can easily fall for the magic of the Midsummer Night, when secret portals are open and the esoteric lurks in the shadows.

June Reflections.

June is my favorite month of the year, without a doubt, closely followed by July and May. I am a summer child and those of you who have been following my writing for years know that I and Mr. Summer are involved in a candid, but everlasting love affair.
I love June mostly for its light. Living almost as north as one can in Denmark, I carry out currently almost a daily ritual of stepping outside close to midnight, to feast my eyes on the illuminated night sky.

Climate wise, June and overall the third season in Scandinavia can be defined as a warmer spring, or April times three. Summer often rains away and it feels as if it ends before it even begun, while we still patiently wait for it to start. The days when the temperatures sneak above 20C can often be counted on the fingers of one hand. However, once in a blue moon we do also have exceptional summers that defy the rule and every year we hope that this will be the one.

As I sat bundled up in our garden a week back, enduring strong winds and clouds, risking to catch pneumonia, the occasional sun peaking through and it's warming rays hitting my face felt though like a vital therapy. The air was incredibly fresh. Inhaling it deeply I felt it purified my entire being. It's consistency so clear, so icy cold yet so clean and so saturated by the scent of the North Sea. I was suddenly - and momentarily - in awe of the weather conditions in the land I call home. I found inspiration in the rugged beauty, unpredictability and a life force of this climate, the one that fuels growth, lushness and bloom.

Sensing the weather elements with all my being, my eyes were drawn to an ivory clematis, planted by the previous tenants of the house. My husband is a perfect man in many ways, but he is definitely no gardener and the plant has been neglected for years. This spring the vine received the proper care and thus it grows with uncanny speed, stretching its tentacle like leafstalks ever so higher up the wooden terrace pole. I watched them swaying in the gale force winds and simultaneously could not help but notice that some grabbed onto the wooden pole in an almost human like way. The growing stalks of clematis are extremely delicate - pull slightly and they will break. Yet they can cling onto a surface in the most dexterous and proficient way, appearing tough and rugged, almost like there is mastermind, an intelligent thinking behind this action. It made me contemplate plants as lifeforms and whether they perhaps are much more complex than is assumed.

I have noticed that I mention my husband in almost every post and I assure you that is unintentional. I guess he is always on my mind and that will ultimately show in my writing. Sometimes it dawns on me, that I am indeed married. We got married only a week before he left and thus the event first now settles into my perception as reality - yet the sheer excitement of the fact still sends shivers down my spine.
I love being married.
I miss him terribly, at times every cell in my being longs to hold him... There are moments when I think that I simply can not go on one more second without feeling his touch and I fall into a temporary depression. But then a new day dawns and I get up from the ground, brush myself off and get on with life. I am thankful for this experience, no matter how hard it is at times, as it is reshaping me as a human being, building my character, my stamina and my resilience.

I am glad though that I can sense him everywhere in the house. His things, his clothes, his smiling face in the pictures of us - it all makes me feel as if he is about to return at any moment. And yet, now that a month has passed since his departure, the house is changing. I find this very interesting and utterly fascinating. The children are not here with me either, only the occasional visit here and there, thus this house bears more and more an imprint of me. Most of all its scent. Have you ever noticed how every home has its unique scent. I guess it is a scent that defines its occupants and is initiated by the life that flourishes within its walls. Our house has lost the scent I recall, when I visited it for the first time. It has a scent that is no longer a foreign one to me, but a very familiar and comfortable one. The one of my home.

I saw the film An Education the other day. It was a sweet movie, not making the big impression on me that I have hoped, yet I was entertained. Nevertheless, there was a scene that will stay with me for a long time. The female heroine - Jenny - contemplates;   

"Action is character", our English teacher says. I think it means that if we never did anything, we wouldn't be anybody. 

I think this is my life philosophy summarized in the most eloquent way.
Indeed, our actions are the essence of our life. We might not always do the right thing, but remaining standing still in a safe place makes us into nobody.

In my life I  have surely taken the wrong turns more times that I care to admit. Still, it never deterred me from taking action. Considering all the places I have been to and all the unforgettable experiences and encounters I have created along the way, I can safely conclude that perhaps I will never be anybody special - yet I will never be a nobody.

Enchanted Evening Sky.

I have stated numerous times in the past how much I love the month of June. I love this month due so many reasons.
I relish in its youth - as it is the first month of the summer.
I relish in its bloom - as it is the month when all my fragrant shrubs and bushes bloom.
And most of all - I relish in its light - as it it is the month of white nights and the summer solstice.

I am summer child and as such I am vivacious and full of life and passion. I also hold a certain sensitivity to natural wonders and thus I will forever stand mesmerized when watching the evening heavens in the sixth month of the year, the annual midpoint.

This year, the longest day of the solstice offered spectacular skies, which came across as endlessly enchanting, almost divine or biblical, full of dramatic thunderheads with shooting sun-ray beams, painting my westerly view in cool azure blue mixed with platinum white and anthracite grey, adding a hint of warm orange.

Trying to eternalize the evening skies with my camera, I was overwhelmed by a plethora of sentimental emotions. Prevailingly a certain soft sadness, bordering on gentle melancholy, as I became aware of one unmistakable fact - once again the threshold of light has been crossed...

The Amazing Workforce.

Look closely at the picture to the left. Can you see what it is? (Please, click to enlarge.)
Yes, these are ants and I need a better camera lens and zoom.
Nevertheless, I can not help but be completely fascinated by these incredible little insects. Or not so little, depending on where in the world we are.
Thankfully, in my part of the world, ants are miniature and pose no harm to us humans. They are more a source of admiration and at time a slight nuisance to us gardeners.

I love to watch these little creatures, ALWAYS hard at work. They seem to be a spring of endless energy. Constantly on a move, busy performing or undertaking something, they appear to be almost a part of a collective consciousness, as they are so synchronized and organized in their work flow.

Already as a child I loved when walking through the Slovakian forests with my parents, we would encounter an ant hill. I always stopped gazing at it with fascination, as it appeared that a bustling metropolis was hiding within its core. A slight disturbance and the hill seemed to come alive in instant, as the inhabitants mobilized their troops.

Here are some cool facts about these amazing creatures (click here for source):

•If a man could run as fast for his size as an ant can, he could run as fast as a racehorse.
•Ants can lift 20 times their own body weight.
•The average life expectancy of an ant is 45-60 days.
•Adult ants cannot chew and swallow solid food. They rely on juice which they squeeze from pieces of food.
•The abdomen of the ant contains two stomachs. One stomach holds the food for itself and second stomach is for food to be shared with other ants.
•There are over 10000 known species of ants.
•Some worker ants are given the job of taking the rubbish from the nest and putting it outside in a special rubbish dump.
•Some birds put ants in their feathers because the ants squirt formic acid which gets rid of the parasites.
•The Slave-Maker Ant (Polyergus Rufescens) raids the nests of other ants and steals their pupae. When these new ants hatch,they work as slaves within the colony.
•If a worker ant has found a good source for food, it leaves a trail of scent so that the other ants in the colony can find the food.
•The queen ant lives up to ten or twenty years.
•The wood ant can threaten the enemy with open jaws.
•There are thirty-five thousand kinds of ants in the world.
•Some ants sleep seven hours a day.
•Ants are normally from 2 to 7 mm long, although carpenter ants can stretch to 2 cm, or almost an inch.
•Some ants care for and "farm" other insects.

Today I am as in awe of these busy little insects as I was in my childhood. However at times they do rise my frustration level; such as when they move into my house or start undermining my patios, just like on the clip below, which I took a couple of weeks ago.

Perceptions Of Summer.

Crossing the solstice, we have entered the season of plenty. The Scandinavian summers however are short and the weather very unstable. Even yesterday, which was forecast to be sunny and warm by meteorologists, turned out to be more or less a cloudy and dull affair.

I love summers endlessly though and I have always done so. Being a true summer child, I was born in July and I worship this season passionately. So full of colour and light, it is additionally abundant with scents and tastes as well.

We all know the wonderful property of our senses and the way they are connected to our recollection. How a sound, a fragrance or that particular tingling of our palate can bring back moments in time, so easily and with such an elegance.
I have collected here ten such significant catalysts of wide range of perceptions, which speak summer to me like nothing else can.

The Sound Of Cicadas.
I grew up in family of sun worshipers and almost as far back as I can remember, we used to travel south to the Mediterranean for summer vacations. The sounds of Cicadas equals summer to me, as these little critters are not native to Central nor Northern Europe. Thus their exotic song brings the feeling of summer to my senses in its purest form possible.

Fireflies.
Fireflies were the sign of summer while I lived in North Carolina. I will never forget those humid, hot nights, full of sounds of crickets and insects and full of these small specks of light, adding an enchanting feeling to the hot summers of the southeast.

Coconut Fragrance And Taste.
As a fragrance in sunscreens, shower gels and shampoos and as a taste in exotic drinks, nothing speaks of tropics more loudly than the coconut.

The Feel Of A Warm Sand.
The feel of hot sand of the beach between my toes and between my fingers, sticking to my blanket and to my skin, oiled in tanning lotion, while I listen to the gentle surf, watching the endless blue of the sea... Only in summer.

The Song Of Swallows.
The flight and the song of swallows as the day is closing to its end, brings back the summers of my childhood like nothing else can. Almost in instant I am transported back to the Czech country side, where I spent every single summer until I was thirteen.

Scent Of Melted Asphalt.
That scent takes me back to Czech country side too, decades in time, in a split second. I recall walking barefoot on a small country road, after spending an hour or two swimming in the local river during lazy summer days. The hot asphalt would almost give in under my feet, as I was leaving footprints behind, having fun trying to burst the small bubbles, which would form on the melting surface, while its particular scent hung in the hot air.

Scent (and Taste) Of Barbecue.
Moving forward in time, barbecue reminds me of the Scandinavian summers and always will. As soon as the first sun rays warm the cold North, the scent of grilling is everywhere. The Scandinavians worship the elusive sun and move their cooking outside during the white nights.

White Nights.
I have described what they mean to me in such a detail before, thus any more words feel obsolete. I can only add that the midnight sun was the only summer sign I dearly missed while I lived in North Carolina.



Taste Of Strawberries Warmed By The Sun.
My first real summer job as a teenager involved picking of strawberries. There is nothing that literally screams summer more loudly to me, then the sweet taste of the red berry, picked during a hot, sunny day. The Scandinavian strawberries are renowned for their superb quality and are exported all over Europe. A celebration of the Midsummer is never complete without a strawberry cake, made with freshly picked berries.

Scent Of Fresh Cut Grass.
The ultimate sign of summer, that stretches back in time and encompasses both my childhood and adulthood. Endlessly soothing, like a blanket of comfort, when the fragrance of cut grass spreads through the air, it instigates security and happiness. It brings back the meadows of my childhood as well as the city parks and the country side of my teenage years. And even today, this scent defines summer just outside the windows of my white house on a hill like nothing else can. A universal sign of summer in every corner of the world that harbours the four seasons; as soon as the grass grows again, summer has begun.

The Treshold Of Light...

... or "My Ode To June Sunsets".

Today's summer solstice marks the culmination of our Scandinavian white nights. It feels like it was just yesterday the longest night was upon us, which meant the onset of the best part of the year; alas now we are heading in the opposite direction. Even though light evenings will be granting us their stunning presence until the beginning of August, the end of June marks the end of a certain magical period that always seems to be gone before it even begun.

White nights fill me with an endless feeling of awe and astonishment. They bring so much enchantment to my surroundings, lifting my spirits and reinforcing my belief in the mysterious. No wonder that already the ancient man built neolithic monuments to celebrate the event of the solstices.

Each evening, the June sun bestows upon us sunset shows that take my breath away.
As the golden disk moves slowly towards the skyline almost twenty hours after it has risen, it turns into a large, fiery globe, instigating moments of great anticipation. Its shape seems to float above the Earth, as if guided by an unseen hand until it meets the horizon in a covert kiss, upon which it spills across the sky like molten steel. Moving slowly out of sight, while colouring our northwestern skies blood red at midnight, the sun only disappears out of view for a short while, never really vanishing, leaving behind strokes of rainbow shades. Simultaneously, the northeast is already the colour of silver. As we move into the small hours of the morning, the imminent sunrise alters the silver sky first into platinum and then the colour of rose gold. In the stillness of the night, day breaks with all its splendor. The golden disk reappears from its short slumber, casting a violet glow across a dewy landscape. And the bird song begins.

Rising almost five hours earlier then in winter, the midnight sun adds about eleven hours more light to our summer days. As we cross the threshold of light, I will try to savour every moment of the longest day and disregard the sharp sting of melancholy, that its departure always instigates in the very core of my being...

The below is a series of photographs taken from my windows during a dramatic sunset two days prior to the summer solstice. As the night progressed, the skies became clear and the splendor of a stunning white night a reality.
Please click the images for a larger view.

People And Plants.

As the weekend was very April like, I spent most of my Saturday tending to my front patio. The terrace is tiled and every spring, it requires a major overhaul, which I failed to perform this year. Specifically, it needs weeding out. This became painfully apparent particularly after the recent rain, which spurred on this unwanted growth.

As I was bruising my knees and knuckles while ripping and scratching through that minimal line of dirt between each tile, which despite all odds manages to provide enough space and nutrients to house some resilient plants, I became aware of another side of the growing green that I was so furiously fighting.
A nuisance to almost every gardener, the term weed can encompass many various plants, depending on where they are found. Yet, as I paused in my labor, I got to contemplate the amazing vigilance of these unwanted beauties. They can grow out of sand, in drought, with very little soil and no help at all.

I couldn't help but realize that there is a likeness between plants and people. Some of us are just like weed; so strong and resilient, not likely to ever give up or give in. Those who can be thrown into any environment, into any situation and they will do well. Surviving on the minimal, turning nothing into plenty. Always landing on their feat, never brought down by defeat. No matter how many times they are uprooted and removed, they will come again, stronger than before.

I admire people like these as I do not belong to this category.

I am not sure I belong to the other end of the scale either.
That which harbors the more sensitive, but brilliant plants, that giving the right conditions will flourish beyond belief. Under the wrong conditions though will shrivel and subsequently perish. Those particular in every way, demanding care and attention. In need of warmth, sun and attentive care in order to feel happiness. But then will bloom in colours, spreading love and beauty. Very much like an orchid, stunning and intricate, complicated and delicate, one that will only live when looked after properly.

I do not think I am likely an orchid though, even though I thought so once.

Nor am I like a rose, which harbours unapproachable beauty, nor a sunflower, turning towards the sun. Not a tulip or any spring bulb that delivers beauty with extraordinary resilience.

I hope I am the flowering chives.
Fragile and easily burned by frost, while preserving its inner core pristine and unblemished through terrible ordeals, withstanding even the most fierce conditions. Thus ultimately resilient and strong, patiently waiting for the optimal requisite in order to thrive. And thus, when the time is right, once again growing with incredible perseverance. Looking so plain and ordinary, resembling weed, yet cultivated and sophisticated, bursting with taste.
Armored with patience, guarding a hidden treasure to be revealed to those who can see beyond the unpretentious look of this estrange plant; only when cherished the right way and given freedom to an unrestricted growth will it bloom with soft violet-blue flowers, full of sweet nectar, reflecting the evening sky during the month of white nights.

Colourful Midnight.

I have learned a new word recently: skiving. Or to be a skiver (aka slacker). And that is exactly what I have been this weekend. A blog skiver. I simply could not get myself to do any writing (or visiting for that matter) at all. I had no ideas nor any profound thoughts were filling my mind and I spend my Sunday sorting out clothes and watching old movies.
Thus today my post is short and unsubstantial. And so boring, as I am again posting pictures of night sky that most of you are certainly fed up with by now.

But I simply can not help myself.
June is the time of our white nights and as we approach the summer solstice in about ten days, their culmination is imminent. I simply have to pause every single night, as I gaze towards the north west skies, that shimmer full of light above the city below. The midnight sun has arrived and will stay around for a couple more weeks.

While the white nights were somewhat absent last week, due to heavy clouds and fog, yesterday, as the cloud cover finally lifted, the sky revealed the night sky in all the magnificent colours of a fiery midnight sunset. And as you can see below, what a difference ten days can make.

June Bloom.

June is my favourite month, even though weather-wise it is rarely pleasing. This past week has been yet another record breaking one, bringing us as much rain in one day, as is usual for the whole month of June. Additionally, it rained non stop (and that means literally non stop) for five consecutive days.
Safe to say, the nature around is certainly not thirsting.

Today feels truly much more like April, not June. The sky contains a plethora of colours, everything from pristine baby blue, to white, grey and ominous black. It is windy, and the clouds bring occasional heavy showers, which are over as fast as they began, replaced by brilliant sunshine. This signals a true weather change ahead.

The humid warm air, which is now retreating, brought out the most beautiful flowers in my surroundings, in splendid, vivacious colours. Cherry Laurel, Spiraea, Rose Hips and variety of wild flowers are in bloom. Thus my views do remind me of the fact that summer is just around the corner, even though the weather tells me otherwise.

Beautiful Blue.

The 8th of June was in 2009 declared as the official World Oceans Day, even though it was proposed as such already in 1992. As this past Tuesday marked the first (official) anniversary of this splendid concept, the collage below is my own tribute to the body of water that will forever hold my outermost admiration and appreciation; it is a combination of all the images of this beautiful blue in all its variations; from steel grey to turquoise green, which I have shared here with you in the past.

To me the ocean is an undying symbol of freedom and power, a source of life and hope, inspiration and serenity. It is ever changing, encompassing the variety of human moods, anything from stillness to motion.
Yet, there is nothing more tranquil and purifying than letting one's gaze lean against the surface of the azure blue water, following its curved outline until it meets the horizon, while letting our minds wander and our perception become as clear and deep as the sea itself...

(Please click image to enlarge.)

The Time Of Magenta.

This week Mr.Summer arrived.
With stunning colours and splendor, warmth and sun - and perfectly on time. As if by a stroke of magic, the first day of this month started with brilliantly blue skies and the sensation of a new season became apparent.

I know it is only temporary, as conditions such as these are rare and the forecasts already predict a change ahead. But I am enjoying this summer preview while it lasts.

Again, both humans, animals and nature love this weather. There is a collective atmosphere of happiness all around, so palpable in the song of the birds, the laughter of people and in the unexpected intensity of colours. The sky is so very blue and the green is so very green. Additionally, a new colour is currently dominating my surroundings.
Magenta.
In every shade, it is the colour of my Rhododendrons. I have three different plants and they all bloom in late May, beginning of June. The warm air has spurred on this bloom and only within the last five days, the bushes went from bud to fully opened flower, giving my views a burst of fuchsia, violet and pink.

When I look out of my kitchen window and see the splendor of this magnificent bloom, I can not help but smile as I recall our arctic winter, just a few months ago. The bush looked so sad and lonely as it stood there, its leaves shrivelled in the deep freeze, a far cry from its magnificent June self.
Once again, nature and the way it is capable of renewing itself, returning back with new stunning beauty every season, never ceases to amaze me.

My Favourite Summer Picture(s).

The lovely Kat at Kat's Corner recently invited us to a very simple challenge; to post our favourite summer picture.

I love this challenge.
It makes for a nice break between all the winter pictures that I keep sharing (and will be sharing for a few weeks more). In fact I loved it so much, I went further than that. I found two summer pictures. All right, to be honest, I simply could not decide which one I loved best, so I am posting both.
And to complicate matters even further (as I am not very good with simple), I posted recent winter pictures as well. Not my favourite, but pictures of the same spot, some eight months later, for comparison.

Why are these two my absolute favorite? Because they show my favourite spot in my summer garden. Or terrace. Both taken last June, a few days apart, they depict that same spot at two different times of the day.
They were taken during the beautiful early summer, when my caprifolium (honeysuckle) and jasmine were both in full bloom, making that part of my terrace a heavenly place. A tranquil, scented hideaway, that offers moments of serenity and contemplation during the day. And comes evening, my outdoor fireplace (chiminea) spreads a beautiful wooden aroma in the air, making the same spot cosy and relaxing.

This is the enchanted time of the year, the season of the Scandinavian white nights that keep the evenings light, with sunsets occurring on the other side of midnight.

These June pictures symbolize my favorite part of the year - I simply can not wait for its return.

(Please click the image to enlarge)

Busy Bumblebees.

I love bumblebees. I think they are the most adorable insects. I love everything about them from the colouring, the very loud sound they make and the fact that they seem to be so very hard at work at all times. Their little bodies are covered in what seems long hair, making them look furry and fuzzy and in contrast to bees, inviting to stroke.
In June, the season for bumblebees usually peaks in my garden, most likely as that is when most of my flowers are in bloom. The whole terrace is buzzing with these little creatures, hard at work, as soon as the place is drenched in sun. This year June was very warm and unusually sunny, making most of my plants bloom ahead of time and simultaneously. I managed to capture the busy bumblebees when they visited my garden about a month ago.