Scintillating Sky.

Gone are the unrestricted views I once had at my disposition in the white house on the hill. I still recollect fondly the captivating light shows that from spring to autumn played out in front of my windows.

These days, wide planes surround my home and our house is nestled between others, hidden from view, lacking it as well.
However, despite these limitations - and to my surprise - the obstructed horizon can nevertheless offer subtle demonstrations of natural splendor.
Just like the other evening, when twilight enveloped our surroundings and the final rays of the setting sun illuminated the three dimensional clouds.

Camera in hand, I walked around the house, capturing the scintillating spring sky in every cardinal direction, reveling in this early "white night" sneak preview...

Beautiful sights indeed always await those who take the time to notice.

Moody March.

Our Fire

We are mid March and the subzero temperatures are back. The brief taste of spring at this month's onset disappeared as fast as it arrived - lady Winter is not ready to quit just yet.
As we all know, the first vernal month is capricious and moody. It can switch between seasons at its own fancy, testing our patience and tolerance. In my native language, there is a rhyme that describes this third month something like this; March, lets get back to the fire.

And that is indeed my favorite spot currently. In fact that is where I am sitting right now, typing away.

Our house came with a wood-burning stove. Even though it can by no means match the beauty of my old fireplace in the white house on the hill, it does what it is suppose to do - it creates a cozy, warm spot in our living room. Equipped with a glass door, it enables me to watch the fire. I love everything about it - the scent, the sound and the hypnotic dance of the flames that so easily make my mind travel in time and space.
This feature is one of the reasons why I fell for our house at first sight.

Beam Of Morning Sun

There is yet another illumination defining my perception currently; the increasing daylight.
The light - whether it is the lack or abundance of it - is my infinite fascination with the European North. I love the incredible shifts that the seasons here provide. The winter and the summer differ about eleven hours when it comes to light - and we are only in southern Scandinavia.
Our home does not have any spectacular views of either sunrises or sunsets, still the bay windows of the north facing kitchen can offer alluring morning views. Recently, during a winter dawn, the young sun emitted a beam of light, shooting straight up across the purple sky like a solar laser, creating an unforgettable moment.

View Into Our Living-room

The house is starting to look like a home. It is amusing to watch my belongings emerge from all the boxes, being mixed with my husbands possessions. I have not seen my things for the past year and a half and it is infinitely exciting to realize that our items fit together so very well and that we both have similar taste in interior design.

Sometimes I have to smile when I think about how one single decision, the one that I took against all odds and the one that made my family and friends question my sanity - took me here. Today no one any longer doubt my abilities to choose, even if it took me a while to get my choices right.

My phone chimes as a text message arrives from my stepdaughter. She is out with her friends and I am sitting here, in the warmth of the flickering fire, waiting for her to come home safely.
She is my responsibility today, as are the boys, while their father is once again away through work, an occurrence I am slowly getting accustomed to.
Her text is full of affectionate words that touch me almost to tears...

I experience a momentary flashback to when I was a teenager and my own mom was waiting for me and my sister, to come home from a dance, or a party.
My husband's daughter is as carefree as I was then and I am as worried sick, as my mother was.

Text From My Stepdaughter

It is not easy to be a step mom and half of the time I have no idea what I am doing. I move constantly in an uncharted territory, being thrown into a substitute parenthood of three teenagers, who two years ago did not even know I existed. I find it difficult at times to relate to my role - I am not their mother, nor will I ever be, yet I participate more than just a friend in their life.
Furthermore I missed out on their early years, I never seen them as babies or children and just jumped into a life in progress - I do not know the first thing about raising kids, least of all teenagers.
In the end of the day though all I can do is to trust that my love and good intentions are enough... The touching words in my stepdaughters message are at least a good indication that I am on the right track.

A log falls over in the fire and Sammy shifts in the chair opposite me.
All of the Sammy (aka Batcat) fans will be happy to learn that my feline companion is doing superb. He survived the move without any problems. The initial shock of the relocation lasted only a couple of hours and already on the first day, Sammy happily roamed the house, searching for his new favorite spot.
On sunny days he can be exclusively found napping inside one of our southbound windows. Watching him sleep this way is extremely soothing, as no one can relax and enjoy life as the felines can.
One day I hope he will let me in on his secret.

Our "Sammy boy"

Sneak Previews.

Views during my current drive

We are about to enter the first spring month, yet I have absolutely no idea what happened to February. It came and went.
As it slowly concludes this week, the sense of spring hangs unmistakably in the air.
Winter is far from done, still I love those covert sneak previews of what is yet to come.

The first thing I noticed as I set out on my long daily commute this past Monday, after almost fourteen days break - was the increase in light.
Our day has gained over three hours since the winter-solstice, a fact that can clearly be perceived during my drive. It's onset is by now undertaken no longer under the veil of darkens, but with views of breathtaking sunsets, which slowly grow into rainbow coloured skies, turning only to dusk as I arrive at my destination. Additionally, this past week the evening twilight was dispersed by an alluring full moon rise and the silver disc accompanied me all the way home, illuminating the road with its platinum shine.

Detail from our Garden

I love this time of the year, when a certain awakening is about to commence and a hidden joy rises in nature.
This spring once again, a novel environment awaits to make my acquaintance. The garden of our new home is currently tranquil and it comes across as an undiscovered treasure. Having had to leave it almost immediately after our move, it took me almost two weeks before I actually stepped out onto the lawn and took a walk around our house.

As I did so, momentarily I recollected my father, many years back, as he walked out barefoot onto the small yard of my parents first house, in midwinter, just to feel the ground beneath his feet. I recall he was overwhelmed by the feeling of ownership.
I felt the same giddy feeling and additionally I felt as I was about to walk into a secret, locked room, only it was on the outside. Walking about, I rediscovered my old pots left on the side of the house by the movers, surveyed the empty greenhouse, the shed and the multitude of bushes, shrubs and trees I yet have to name. Coming full circle into our garage, where my husband was sorting through the many boxes still waiting to be unpacked, I had to share with him my first impressions after surveying our property. He smiled and put his arm around my shoulders, looking at me with those hypnotic grey-blue eyes that always seem to disarm me. "This will be good..." he said as he kissed me and I felt happiness envelop me like a warm blanket.

The Garage

I love him endlessly and forever.
I love him despite the fact that the last three weeks saw us arguing more then during the whole time we have known each other. Being pushed to our limits, first with an endless move followed by a vacation that was anything but relaxing, we met each others dark sides, those that crawl out of the woodwork when going gets tough. It truly put our affection for each other to the test, but overall I think we passed with flying colours. Being able to laugh and joke about our disputes after they have passed and realizing that the best place to fall asleep is still in each other arms, we know we are exactly where we are suppose to be.

Giving you a sneak preview of my new home, I can conclude that it often reminds me of my old white house on the hill. It lacks the stunning views, yet I find myself smiling constantly as I come across something that brings back memories of my past residence. Even the kitchen sink is identical.
Just as much as I loved my white house, I am in love with our new house and I will only grow to love it more with time.
I love that it feels like our home. I love the way we spend our days trying to decorate the space slowly and respectfully, combining our belongings, making them fit together. Surprisingly, they do fit very well.
I love the vaulted ceilings, large windows and open rooms, which are nevertheless designed to create cozy and intimate spots, such as around the wood burning stove, gathering a family together. I relish in the luxurious inventory, the large walk in closet, the combined pantry - wine cellar, the modern materials and the privilege of two large bathrooms, having no longer a need to rise an hour earlier to enjoy a morning bath.

Old pot in the greenhouse

I have waited a long time, much longer than most people do, to experience certain golden, defying moments in life. Instead, they all happened quickly, leaving me a bit bewildered at times.
In a very short time span I found the love of my life and relocated, very soon thereafter I became a wife and a step mom, a landlord, a property owner and furthermore, I am about to change employment.

While I have enjoyed this roller-coaster ride, at times I am almost waiting to exhale, exhausted and tired, holding my breath, bracing myself for all that is still ahead.
But I guess that is life and as I learn to roll with the punches, passing the points of no return, there is a certain exhilaration in all this accomplishment.
There is a sense of being alive.

Endings And Beginnings.

Our Old House

In exactly two weeks, we will leave this house, never to return.
It is an old rental, bearing an imprint of the seventies, when it's cornerstone was laid. It is drafty, with faulty electrical wiring, outdated appliances and in a desperate need of a makeover. It is too small and too impractical.
Still, I can not help but feeling slightly sentimental saying my good byes.

It has been my home for the past eighteen months and my husband spend seven years here, watching his children grow from babies into teenagers. As much as our departure touches me, it must move him in a quite profound way, despite the fact that he at all times viewed it as a temporary place of residence, while he waited for his life to resume after his marriage fell apart.

I often mention in my writing how happy I am and how meeting the love of my life became the onset of my personal golden age.
However I often forget, that just as much as he changed my life around, I also changed his. I brought his way love, affection and a sense of happiness he searched feverishly for. Additionally, I came with immense possibilities, changing his life style, offering him and his kids a better reality.
None of us could have afford the beautiful house we are about to move into before we met - together we have redefined each others reality.

Moving Boxes

Everywhere I look, there are boxes and crates.
It is staggering to realize that so many items can get collected in such a small space, over such a short span of time. My presence here must have doubled the number of our possessions, despite the fact that most of what I own is still in storage. Thus I can not help but feel a sense of dejavu, recalling how many times in my past the conclusion of a move turned into a disposal frenzy, when one just simply wants to throw everything away and finally be done with it.
Still, it will be exciting to once again gaze at all my belongings, using these to decorate and style our home. What a joy it will be not to have to feel like a guest any longer - even though no one ever made me feel as such here.

Once again I look at the old birch tree outside our windows realizing I will never see it green again. I will never again see the bloom of the multitude of plants and flowers I planted last spring and summer - they will instead bring enchantment to the new tenants.
I will miss the garden more than anything - particularly the scented lilac in the corner of the backyard and the ruby coloured hollyhocks, surrounding our terrace, those almost signature flowers of this house.
However I take comfort in the excitement of discovering a new green spot, the natural haven surrounding our new house. It is full of fruit trees, houses several raised planting boxes and even has a small greenhouse.
I know in no uncertain terms that comes summer, this is where I will be seeking comfort and solace during my solitude.

Therefore all that really remains is to say thank you to this latest home, which offered me shelter and made me feel safe. It has earned its righteous place in my very personal collections of the many locations, where I have laid down my hat.
The beauty of every end is that it is followed by a new beginning. Thus once again I move on, feeling endlessly excited about what is yet to come.

My Favorite View - click image to enlarge

What's Another Year...

Returning from my extended absence, I find it somewhat difficult to adequately begin the very first post of this year.
I have drafted so many over the course of the Holidays, yet finding no opportunity to polish my writing into an acceptable format due to lack of time, it slowly became outdated and obsolete.
Additionally, I am experiencing an unexpected decline in my language skills. Despite the fact that I can express myself in five languages, English has until now been without a doubt the one I master the best - I can speak it fluently, write it with ease and I can use it to convey all aspects of life - both personal and professional.

I became proficient at speaking English during my years in the US and continued to excel in it while conversing on every day bases with the Irishman.
Today however he is long gone from my life and instead I find myself talking exclusively in Danish with my husband, my extended family and the kids. Slowly I begin lacking words and writing has become cumbersome, as a new vocabulary takes over my thinking.

It is odd, being in this linguistic no man's land, even though I have tried it numerous times before. Yet in my adult years I no longer posses the brilliance and speed of a young mind. Thus eventually, I can never fully master the novel tongue, while the old slowly begins to disappear into a vocabulary abeyance.
Being multilingual is a blessing and a curse.

Still, my love for writing is always there, simmering in the background. I thoroughly enjoy putting down my thoughts into words, documenting my life in the process, even though very little life altering wisdom can be perceived in my reflections these days.
Today I do more living than thinking.

Thus as the two faced God Janus once again seizes the reign over our world, I wonder what is in store for me as I set out onto a novel voyage through another set of pristine twelve months. Looking ahead, there is so much anticipation; a new home, perhaps a new job. The future seems undefined and adventurous.

Yet simultaneously, it comes across as unsettling.

By the time summer reaches its peak, I will once again see the love of my life temporary leaving me. Having tried it before, I know what to expect - many sleepless nights, torment, anguish and longing. Even though our forthcoming separation might be nothing like the last one, I brace myself for the hardship of yet another set of four months without him by my side, while I will try to find the courage deep within to be the woman he needs me to be, allowing him to fully concentrate on what he has been trained to do.
Having lived on my own more than half a life time I have no problems with solitude. In fact, I am very peculiar about the people I associate with and I rather be alone than in crowds.
With this said though, never before have I had such a desire to constantly crave the company of another human being, as I do my husband's. I covet his close proximity, his touch and caress. I miss him intensely even when we are apart for a day.  
"You're different with him. He moves, you move. Like magnets..." - an excerpt from a dialogue in the Twilight Saga series, no other set of words could more adequately describe my own romance.

Looking back, I conclude that so many years in my past have come and gone, melting together into this undefinable span of time, vanishing into oblivion. I like to believe that these were not wasted, but served a purpose in their own right, becoming an intermission in my life, when days progress in slow pace and when my being did strive to renew itself, while in pursuit of my dreams.
I carry a few such years in my suitcase and will without any doubt encounter these in my future.

Yet I also carry the memories of years that defined me, changing the course of my personal history, compelling me to set out onto epic journeys. These did not always end well, yet they were full of adventures and paramount progress. I feel that a lifespan that alternates the period of action with period of leisure and lethargy, is full and complete.

As I so perceptively perceived a couple of years ago, the period of the latest stagnation has passed and I have entered my personal golden age.
When - if - I once get the privilege to look back upon this part of my life, I will always remember it as one of the happiest. It will go down in my recollection as the most intense and vibrant.
I will always view it as the onset of my very own 'Age Of Aquarius'.

Reflections In Snow.

View From Our Kitchen

I sit once again in my favorite spot, in our kitchen, looking out onto the bare birch tree, as it stands so very still in the snow. I try to savour the stunning wintry images as much as I can. Despite the fact that the alabaster blanket is several feet deep, a major thaw is on its way, robbing us most likely of all hope for a white Christmas.

I have mixed feelings about snow - driving in it is a true nightmare and the adrenaline rush cutting through my body as the car wheels start sliding uncontrollably is the most terrifying feeling imaginable. Add some evening fog to the mix and I become paralyzed with fear. Night fog is in my opinion the most horrid condition to drive in. Especially thick fog banks that come out of nowhere and force me to slam on the brakes as I suddenly hit a wall of total nothing and visibility of zero.

Views During My Daily Drive

Thus in the past two weeks, following snow storms that made it impossible for me to set out onto my long daily commute, I have been confided to the house for some days here and there. Yet, as the roads cleared and the sun came out, the drive to work turned into an enchanting and visually stunning experience and the views of the snowy landscape touched me almost to tears...
Therefore I will truly miss the snow, as it illuminates the darkest months of the year, creating so much beauty. Almost every morning this past week as I sat behind the wheel, the only though occupying my mind was "I wish I had my camera with me and I wish I could stop and capture all this endless brilliance of nature and winter at its very best..."

With barely a week left to Christmas I wonder where the time is going.
I find myself so out of it and am becoming increasingly disorganized.
I, who used to live by routines and had every week meticulously planned in advance am now living from day to day, where my reality is improvised and spontaneous. My life is a wonderful mess and there is an intensity in it that makes me feel alive.
Carrying boxes with our Christmas ornaments out of our garage the other day, falling knee deep into the pristine snow in the process, the sight of the garage interior made me gasp. So much stuff! And it all has to be sorted out, packed into boxes or disposed off within the next month. It will be a difficult task to do in the midst of a cold winter.
Perhaps the thaw that is coming is after all heaven send.

Our Decorations Detail

Later, when I decorated the house, it struck me that this was the last time I did so here. Next December, I will be decking the halls in our new home. As always, I felt nostalgia grasping my heart - every ending is sentimental and everything that concludes usually comes across as bittersweet, no matter how much we look forward to what is to come.

Sometimes I lie awake late at night, when everything is so very still. My mind starts racing, my thoughts run like wild horses. Facing two mortgages in the future, how will that go?
Being a landlord, I am still connected to my past through the white house on the hill. It is an odd feeling, knowing there is a property out there that belongs to me on paper, yet which I never see, only maintain. Here and there something breaks and I am asked to repair it, which means I make a call and a craftsmen is send to the house. It has been months since I last visited the property that I own. The other day, sending a Christmas card to my tenant, writing my old address yet another name on the envelope, I experienced a truly surreal moment...

Our Entrance

For most of my adult life, I have been alone.
Every problem, every decision, every hurdle - I had to overcome them and solve them on my own. That notion still envelops my being and I still become anxious and apprehensive about the difficulties that the future holds.
Yet as time moves on, I am slowly learning to live in the present, something my husband is greatly proficient at. His smiling face and loving arms reassure me at all times that I am no longer alone.

Taking risks and taking action -  these are what brings us forward, enriching our experiences and our perception. However hard it is for me to accept that the uncertainty of the future is the only certainty there truly is, simultaneously I am realizing that this very fact is the essence of a rich, full life in progress.

View Of Our Backyard

 

Everything Is Illuminated.

As we step into December, the weather has turned bitterly cold and the first snow of the season has fallen - as if on cue - with the onset of the first winter month.
Embarking on my long commute after work the other day, three hours into a dark winter evening, I left the traffic of a busy metropolis behind and set out onto the deserted freeway. Driving along, I experienced a sudden sense of enchantment.
The darkness subsided and the full moon peaking occasionally through the clouds cast an alluring silver light onto the road ahead, while my favorite musical piece kept playing in the background.

I felt as if suddenly everything was illuminated.

Thus yet another unforgettable moment formed in my perception - an occurrence that is fairly common these days.

My dreams and hopes are all slowly become reality and the future indeed seems bright.
In a couple of months we will begin the process of moving into a new house - a place that will become our home.

Sitting in our lawyers office this past week, getting through the last administrative paperwork before signing the dead, my mind went through a short flashback to almost exactly a decade ago.
Seated in a similar office, in a another part of the country, I was signing a deed to my very first house, the white house on the hill, having an entirely different future planned ahead off me. I never thought then that ten years down the road I would be embarking on a novel journey once again. I find this to be the most alluring aspect of life - not knowing what the future holds.
One thing remains the same though - I feel equally excited about the prospect of the purchase as I did then. When we walked into our house for the first time, both me and my husband, without any communication between us, knew in our hearts we have found our home.

Giving in to the wave of changes, I have taken the decision to change my citizenship.
It is an important step, one that I take gladly, but one that is leaving me full of nostalgia.
I am giving up a country where I was not born and where I have not lived for over two decades, yet where I spend twelve very important and formative years. It is a country that took my family in and gave us shelter and a promise of a better future. It was where I spend a blissful childhood, where I went to school, where I had my first home and my first employment. It is where I made the friends I still have in my life and where the foundation was laid to who I am today.
Thus I take this step with a sense of apprehension, even though there is no doubt in my mind that my decision is the right one. After "belonging" to one country almost all my adult life, despite my many moves and relocation - I guess I have finally found a reason to belong elsewhere. I have found a reason to lay down my hat right here.
I have finally found my home.

Indeed, everything is illuminated, even though we are amidst the darkest time of the year. November noir has ended, becoming replaced by December brightness - not just defined by the shine of the full moon, but by all the twinkling, ornate lights adoring houses and lining the roads and the multitude of candles burned throughout the Scandinavian homes.
I have always loved this time of the year, when this undefined yet so tangible and unified joy settles all across my world.
Still, never before have I enjoyed the onset of the Holidays more than I do today.

Love, family and home - these are the blessings that define Christmas and currently these make up the very core of my life and are the shinning beacons that illuminated my heart. 
Each and every day is precious and even the darkest winter night is suddenly full of light.

November Noir.

Fall is slowly concluding and the fiery glow of the ostentatious season is now only a memory. Instead, the outlines of trees stand naked, dark and ominous against a milky sky, their branches damp and still, resembling almost menacing silhouettes.
The remains of foliage and long gone bloom turns putrefied, instigating a sense of decay.

Late fall melancholy is by now truly apparent. To me it comes across as an intermission, a moment of stillness and tranquility that stands between the flamboyance of colours and the illumination of the Holiday Season.

I have been somewhat absent, in my writing and in my on-line life, for which I apologize. I do still ponder the bigger questions and I do still notice the enchantment around me, I only need more time to convey it in words and pictures to all of you you.
There are continuously issues that occupy my thinking, such as the fact that I find myself increasingly disenchanted with my line of work, a sensation that started a couple of years back and which only grows in intensity by each passing day.
I find this puzzling - that which once defined me and brought me happiness feels now as a burden and has lost its allure all together.

Is it midlife crises, I wonder, or is it I who have changed...
I feel a deep longing to realize old dreams, using my creative abilities, devoting what remains of my working life to an occupation that is novel and better suited the new me.
Curiously, life never works fully on all levels - if it did, I guess we would be done living it.

My reality evolves constantly and for someone who has lived by predictable routines for decades, I find the ongoing growth curiously reassuring. My husband's children are spending increasing amount of time with us, which changes the dynamic of our lives. It is a challenge on all levels, as I am thrown into parenthood of three teenagers, having never hold them in my arms as babies. Trying to be their friend and guardian and yet at the same time guiding them with gentle but firm rules as a stepmother is a balancing act of a novel kind. Yet as I refine my skills, the rewards are of indescribable measures - they are the children I will never have and their love and devotion surpasses all my expectations.

A move to a new house is now slowly becoming reality and soon we will be finally having a home of our very own where we can live as a family, with a sense of privacy and safe continuity. Thus as I look out onto our misty garden, I wonder whether this is the last November noir I am witnessing outside my windows in this old house. So much emotions and changes has undergone between its walls in such a short time. I know I will miss it in a certain way...

Nature is indeed winding down. It is entering a deep sleep, discarding the old and shriveled, renewing itself from within, in order to emerge reborn and revitalized a few months down the road.
This is a contagious rejuvenation, that applies to everything living, us humans too. Most likely when winter turns into spring, my own life will be reborn in a new place.

Late fall is in my perception always defined by one single masterpiece; Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21.
Thus when I look into the mist, I can hear piano and strings of violins, giving the melancholy of November a truly poetic, symbolic and almost meditative feel.

October Sky.

As we reach mid-fall, the sun is visibly vanishing, rising later and setting earlier by each passing day. However, the low lying golden disc offers once again stunning views of a dramatic sky, which becomes so apparent during my daily commute. It is a precious farewell gift from nature, like a final wonder, while we are slowly submerged into an early twilight.

Thus I can not help but marvel at the beauty that accompanies me on the road currently. In fact, I am at times touched deeply by these stunning vistas, which come across almost as if being biblical or divine, when the celestial sphere turns into breathtaking painting full of colours and light.
I try to relish in these sights as much as I can, knowing that very soon, for months to come, my drive home will be conducted under a thick blanket of darkness...

“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.”
Rabindranath Tagore

Year One.

The first anniversary of my move north came and went, without much notice on my part. Last week however, some reoccurring, yearly sport event made me realize that by mid July I have indeed spend one year in my new home.

I can safely conclude that these have been the best twelve months of my life. At times I view my life as a combinations of assorted segments. Personal eras that start and end with defying events. Taken together they make me feel like I have already lived several lifetimes combined into one. Last year yet again another new era started and I am endlessly excited about the novel prospects that await in my future.

Most of all I am looking forward to move to a new house, a house that I will hopefully one day soon purchase together with my husband. The period of looking, searching and planning is endlessly exciting. My old white house has been taken off the market and I am becoming a landlord, renting it out until it can be sold at a good price in the future. Today it is a buyers marked and the sellers have to comply, thus I guess we better take advantage of this fact and become buyers instead.

Time is definitely occupying my thinking as of lately. Yet, the avenues have shifted slightly and I have found myself contemplating the subject of death.
I have never contemplated it to any deeper extend before. Of course, just like everyone else, I too am scared of dying, but the fear that recently enveloped me is not the fear of death and the pain of the event itself, more the fear of the finality that it brings.

I dread the end of my consciousness.
The end of experiences, excitement and adventures, of new possibilities and unforgettable moments. I love to be alive - despite the pain and suffering, there is also so much beauty and magic at every turn, so much new to be discovered every day. The termination of all this a horrid and appalling idea. At least, unless one is a believer, death definitely brings an end to life as we know it. I truly feel these have been some of the most haunting thoughts I have ever had. Perhaps they are born out of the surprising and overwhelming happiness that defines my life currently, forcing me to see the other end of the scale. Taking a peak into an abyss that I know awaits, one day. As always, we fear the unknown - and death is by far the most certainly occurring unknown there is.

It feels as if our summer has not really begun - due to the absolutely unseasonable weather we have had. Yet small signs here and there tell me undoubtedly that my favourite season has passed its peak.
I just noticed that our rowan is already displaying half ripen berries. Plants, bushes and trees are now big and lush, having attained that deep dark green, signifying that their growth is slowing down and ceasing.

Yet for the first time ever this does not bring sadness into my perception. On the contrary, slowly a joy starts to gain hold, an anticipation and excitement, similar to the one I used to experience as a little girl when Christmas was approaching. Soon a true countdown will begin, as I await the return of the man I love.
With about five weeks left of our separation, I have finally allowed myself to slowly visualize his homecoming in my mind. Thus at last I can glimpse the light at the end of the dark tunnel and the approaching fall season has never looked more appealing and never been more anticipated in my eyes than this year.

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)