The optimistic gardener

Christmas time and trees to remember

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Thu, 25 Dec 2008 21:01:00 +0000

It's Christmas again! Yoo-hoo! Let's run about in circles like happy puppies.
Yes, I like Christmas. I like the lights, so very much needed in this dark time of the year. I like the quietness of Christmas day (Christmas eve is the big day for celebration in Sweden you know) when all the huzzle and buzzle is over and you just enjoy being free from work. No one even start to ask 'What's for dinner' either. There are enough leftovers to last until Easter.

The Christmas tree this year is decorated from the waist and up. The youngest member of the family, Asta, 5 months old took immediate fancy to the glass balls. Like a basketball player she attacked the balls with the most efficient paw strike (she is a cat, perhaps I should have mentioned that). In three minutes flat she had broken three balls and we realized we had to take some action.

This year at least, we don't have to prepare tranquilizers to the guests to calm them down when they see the tree. Last year everyone laughed so hard they could hardly breathe when they saw it. Not only was it the tallest tree we could fit into the house. It was at least 4 m in diameter at base. To make things even worse the branches were not evenly distributed either. This of course had two effects: one - it looked funny, two - the tree fell down every time someone came close to it. The Christmas tree from the dark outlands tried to attack and kill every innocent person, dog or cat that came near it. In the end we leaned it against the wall and put a cupboard half way in front of it to prevent it from collecting any more victims.

Why we choose that particular tree out of all trees in our land? I have no idea. We have spent an entire year trying to figure that out. 'Acute loss of common sense' is the most likely explanation we have managed to come up with so far. It stroke fast, and both of us at the same time(!). So pressure this year wasn't so hard when it came to finding a Christmas tree. Or as my husband put it, 'We'll find a better looking tree this year than we did last year even if go out blindfolded.'

Have a marvellous Christmas, wherever you are!

Deep, dark secrets

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 22:27:00 +0000

Do you ever get the feeling that you are supposed to like something that you really don’t? When it comes to gardening I mean. No! You there... Stop that thought. Too much detail.

Now… Back on track… Do you ever, WHEN IT COMES TO GARDENING, get the feeling you are supposed to like something you really don’t?

Not surprisingly, since I asked the question, I do. My big hang up seems to be seeds. As an enthusiastic gardener one is supposed to sow ones own seeds, right? Open any gardening magazine, look at any gardening forum and you'll see what I mean. Seeds, seeds, seeds. They are everywhere. Sneaking in behind your collar. Into your bed, disturbing your dreams, destroying your nights sleep. Alright, I got kind of carried away there, but even so…

The seeds tend to dominate the non-gardening season for us living in harsher climates. If you take gardening at all serious you cheer the arrival of the seeds catalogues. You can’t wait to order and then you grow thriving plants which you proudly present for an amazed community of admiring neighbours. Right?
Want to know the dirty truth? What reality is like, in this little corner of the World? (Silly expression by the way. Aren’t we living on a globe?)

Reality is that I’ve given up. True! Honestly! Cross my heart! I have given up. The only things I sow are vegetables sown directly in the vegetable garden. The key is - no prickling. My pots, after prickling, are more “The Killing Fields” than “The Secret Garden”. No matter if I choose seeds said to be REALLY easy, a child can handle them... I am not a child. My seeds refuse to listen when I tell them they are easy and indestructible. Consequently, I have given up.

I prefer to buy my plants, trade with gardening friends and divide larger ones into smaller but many plants to spread all over the garden. It works for me. I’m happy this way, even if it means being in minority in the gardening forums during winter months. And hey, without the seedlings to worry about it really frees time to do what we gardeners do best… dream!

It seemed like a good idea at the time or - Coffee anyone?

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Sat, 01 Nov 2008 03:18:00 +0000

Ever felt like changing subject when someone asks you about why the garden path ends in the neighbour’s fence or why the only view is blocked by a huge tent – a temporary arrangement, now in its fourth year? Cheer up, you are not alone. Lack of planning or “it didn’t really turn out the way I had expected it” is the theme song of my gardening life. One only needs to know how to handle it.

Three years ago I ordered a truckload of compost to fill up some of the borders and the vegetable garden. The day for delivery came. A huge truck turned up on the driveway.
- Where do you want it?
Ha! I had planned ahead! Compost is heavy. The garden is large. Solution: put it in a spot easy to reach and relatively central.
- There, I answered and pointed out a nice, flat spot. One of the very few flat sports in the garden to be exact.
And I was right, compost is heavy. It is very heavy indeed. Three years later, I have pushed wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow to every corner of the garden. Three years later more than half of the heap of compost still remains in its central spot. The well chosen central spot mind you… in plain view of everyone who enters or leaves the garden.
It was good compost to. Full of nice cosy nutritions for every seed in the neighbourhood. Result: We no longer only have a heap of soil. We have a green hill of thriving weed. Nice and central (read: blocking the best view in the garden). Visitors are generally to well mannered to ask but they can’t avoid looking a bit puzzled. And if the do ask the only answer there is is: “it seemed like a good idea at the time”.

Another example of "seemed like a good idea at the time" is the vegetable garden and its permanent dweller. The vegetable garden was planned right after we had bought the house and I had a vision not to have only vegetables in it. Wouldn’t it be nice, I thought, to combine vegetables with, say, roses? Thought and action being one, a rose was bought and planted in the middle of the vegetable garden. It adjusted well. It grew. It thrived. It more than thrived. It sent its stems this way and that way and some in more creative directions. It grew more than 3 m the first year. That is 6 m in diameter. Now it became increasingly difficult to see some of the more timid vegetables and it was no longer possible to reach the further end of the vegetable garden without walking around it. Next year the rose grew even more. Forget secateurs. This bush was pruned with saw and pruning tools for a medium sized tree. Cut down to the ground it returned, more vital than ever. All old stems removed, they only returned as the heads of a hydra. An attempt was made to lead the stems into a double rose arch for support. The rose arch fell down and never quite regained its self-confidence.

It's just as well to accept defeat. This is a battle I will never win. The rose happily dominates its spot and I am enlarging the vegetable garden in order to actually fit in some vegetables to.
The comment: “that is one serous vegetable garden, you must really be a keen grower and what is that huge thing in the middle?” I try to ignore. If you look the other way and change subject you don’t have to answer, do you? And of course there is always the last resort: “Coffee anyone?”

I'd like this month in another colour please...

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Sat, 17 May 2008 22:27:00 +0000

Customer service, I want to make a complaint. This month you sent is simply not up to standard and I'd like to get a replacement please.

Where does one turn for such an issue? I really, really want to know. This can't simply go on any further and someone need to take action. Might as well be me.

What is wrong? Well, a week ago I would have told you: nothing. A temperature of 23 degrees Celsius. Flowering daffodils. Spring at it finest.

Then I went for a business trip to north of Sweden. The temperature sank dramatically. (Not my fault though - I hope. Or maybe it was? No, couldn't be, could it?) Anyway, we were talking of 5 degrees Celsius and chilly winds. And one day we even had snow(!). Well, I thought, at least it is not as cold at home. You have guessed it. Boy was I wrong! I arrived home late Thursday evening. Today the snow fell heavily. It was not invited. Not at all. It just threw itself upon us all on its own initiative.

The lilacs, which are blooming at the moment, look appalled at the very thought of this cold white thing upon them. And the asparagus, which I planted yesterday, demands an explanation, from me. I mean, what do one say to indignant asparagus plants?
- Sorry, I couldn't imagine it would snow?
They simply don't listen. Just stands there and glare at you. Asparagus are so quick to take offence. I hardly dare to go into the kitchen garden any more. So please, take this month back and give me another one. Alright?

Coffee makes the World go around

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 21:58:00 +0000

We probably have the most alert earthworms in the country. When it rains they don’t merely crawl up from the ground, they backflip (10, 10, 10, 10 from four available judges). And in really heavy rains they have been seen performing synchronized swimming in the water pools. How come?

Well, this is a Swedish garden you know. (All right, all right you can take your eyebrows down and you don’t have to ask “So?” in quite that tone of voice. I’ll explain in a minute.)

Being Swedish basically means you drink lots of coffee. As a matter of fact, Sweden has the second highest coffee consumption in the World per capita beaten only by the Finns. We apparently drink between 9 and 10.5 kg coffee per capita and year according to statistics. So it is a popular drink today. In the beginning the Swedes weren’t as impressed though. The royal ambassador Claes Brorson Rålamb (1622-1698), who went to Turkey and met coffee for the first time, described it as a hot drink made of “peas from Egypt”. In 1685 coffee was imported to Sweden for the first time, but only 0.425 kg. It was also a matter of controversy and even forbidden on several occasions during the 18:th century. The prohibition was more or less observed. It is told that hostesses invited the guests to go into another room and “meet a friend” after dinner. It is also told that the poet Johan Henric Kellgren (1751-1793) asked his friends in for a cup of tea and added “there is brown tea”.

Luckily, nowadays there are no such things as bans against coffee. It is lucky for me, not to mention lucky for the people around me. Trying to talk to me before I've had my morning cup should be labelled with “do not try this at home”. It is lucky for the garden as well. Coffee grounds make excellent fertilizer and soil improvement. Our heavy clay needs every bit of organic matter we can find. Thus, we cover bare surfaces with grass clippings – makes wonders – and minimizes the need for weeding too. And we put the coffee grounds in the compost. I have been seen carrying large bags of coffee grounds from the coffee vending machines at work. You don’t let good things come to waste, you just don’t. From experience I can tell you that if you forget to take the bags out of the car for two days the car will smell like a roasting-house for weeks. This might be a bit embarrassing… especially if you forget about it and offer someone a lift. Someone you don’t know very well…

The compost is getting on beautifully though. And in the winter when the way out to the compost often seems to be very long we simply put the coffee grounds in the flowerbed closest to the door. When the snow melts the aroma is set free which may lead to some raised eyebrows from visitors. They can’t exactly put their fingers on it but there is a distinct aroma and it's somewhat familiar… But the plants are thriving, especially the roses. And after all, what are puzzled visitors compared with thriving roses if you just can live with the backflipping earthworms?

P.S. A word of warning: You know you’ve put out to much coffee on the ground when the earthworms start forming little marimba bands and arrange music festivals. How do earthworms play marimba? Loud, very loud!

Colours of spring and hardy neighbours

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Sat, 05 Apr 2008 09:58:00 +0000

It is often said that here up north there isn't so much colour early spring. Not compared to the more tropic regions of the world. And perhaps that is true. On the other hand we hardly walk around with photos of more tropic regions when we look at our gardens, constantly comparing here and there. That would really look silly. Would give the neighbours something to wonder about wouldn't it?

Our neighbours (there are only two of them actually, oh and a dog to not to forget) are toughened by now and have stopped to look as surprised as they once did. Nowadays they have accepted that being a gardening nerd and thus a bit peculiar does not necessarily mean I constitute a threat to children and small furry animals.

It is remarkable what neighbours can get used to. Let me present a small collection of situations:

- They find their neighbour in the kitchen garden digging up Jerusalem artichokes (Helianthus tuberosus) with a big spade. Perfectly normal had it not been for the fact she is dressed in a suit and high heeled shoes. And with a handbag firmly placed on the ground next to her. There is a perfectly simple explanation of course. On the way from the car to the front door I suddenly got a vision of mashed Jerusalem artichokes - a delight to mix with mashed potatoes. Thought and action being one, of to the kitchen garden and start digging. I know this. They don’t.

- Living with heavy clay in the garden means every hole you want to dig is a challenge. And with a passion for planting things that needs big holes (read: trees) I live a challenging life. The hole was 30 centimetres deep when a "clonck" was heard. This might mean one of two things - I have hit bedrock or there is a stone on my hole. Bedrock means change of plans and a need for moving the hole somewhere else. Stone means it is possible to remove it from the hole and continue as planned. Widening the hole somewhat made it clear this time it was a stone. I dig around the stone, freeing it from soil (=clay). I try to put the spade under it and wiggle it loose. I break the shaft of the spade. I mutter words I wasn't aware of that I knew. I fetch another spade. Break that shaft to. I fetch an iron bar to use as a lever. Put in place, throw myself upon it and scream out loud to get more strength (think of a shot putter at the Olympics and you get the idea). Now the neighbours pass. With a friendly "Good morning" they go on with their walk. Not a raised eyebrow, which is more than can be said of their guest who is walking with them...

- Dark nights a light may be seen flickering around our garden. Sometime it moves around vigorously (=I’ve got a new idea for a planting and have to rush out in the garden to see if there is room for it where I want it). Sometimes the light keeps very still (=I need to plant something right at this very minute. It is difficult to plant when it's pitch black outside. The obvious solution is of course to place a flashlight at some distance to lighten the spot.) The neighbours now have stopped tiptoeing out of the house to catch the supposed burglar - a relief for us all and the end of some very embarrassing scenes.

To all gardening friends and hardy neighbours around the globe here is proof for there being colour in the Nordic regions as well.

And they are back...

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Sun, 30 Mar 2008 20:16:00 +0000

And they are back! Who are, you might ask. The tulips! Eagerly they jumped out of the ground at first signs of sprig as usual. And, also as usual, they became covered in snow by the inevitable snow in March.
And, just as inevitable they stand, green and jolly when the snow has melted again.

Today is the first day of daylight saving time and thus, the first day of true spring. Brings hope, doesn't it?

Green manure

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 23:11:00 +0000

“It’s snowing.” Those were the first words my husband said today when we woke up. (Correction: Those were the first words he said when he woke up and energetically tried to make me do the same.) “You can’t be serious,” I answered. (He later clamed it sounded more like “mnuff, mfff, hmmm” since my answer came from under the pillow but that he interpreted (quite correctly actually) the answer as “You can’t be serious”. A tribute to long relationships.)

Winter has been a strange season this year. Globally it has apparently been the coldest winter experienced for centuries. Here, on the other hand, it never really started. November came with rain and winds. December came with rain and winds. January came with rain and winds. February came… You get the idea. By February we started not only to grow gills but also to give up hope of any snow. Ridiculously enough other parts of the country have had the snowiest winter ever.

Well, anyhow, spring was on its way. The snowdrops flowered, the light had returned and the birds were singing operettas. (They do you know. In spring, it’s operettas. Zoologists may claim the birds defend territory and are looking for mates all they want. Listen to them, I say, and no mistake can be made – operettas.) The rather large pile of soil I ordered last fall was slowly beginning to thaw and getting ready for use. Everything said “SPRING”. Then the second shot came from the starter and the speaker said “false start”. Redo. A white cover of it all. And a little more time to think and plan.

This year the kitchen garden will be the pride of the garden. Growing frames have been placed and filled with soil. Now the last are to be put out. And, at last, after more the ten years of planning and thinking (all right, I am a slow starter, I know) I will grow asparagus. And beans. And grapes. The grapevine was planted last year actually. The Latvian Zilga thrives, even in our cold climate. The beans fell victim to a painted house. They were planted. Even got a trellis to climb. Then came a period of paint buckets, brushes, ladders and paint – the house was to be repainted. And suddenly there was frost and more frost and the beans, which ought to have been harvested weeks ago, started to look more spotty black-brown fingers than the lush green pods they are supposed to look like. A rather extravagant version of green manure? But hey, that's me. “Forgot the beans? Nah, it’s fertilizer - Phaseolus coccineus ’Pickwick’ (runner bean).”

Long time, no written

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Sun, 09 Mar 2008 17:27:00 +0000

Well, well, well...
Two years. Who would have thought that?
Two years ago it became a bit too much and I really had to reduce some of all the things that threatened to eat me alive. When things you do for fun (like blogging) don't feel like fun any more it's time to take a break. But I really never intended it to last for quite so long.

What have I been up to during this time then? Well, I've been ordering truckloads of soil (honestly - truckloads!) to make our clay more diggable (is there really such a word - diggable? - as in soil you can put a spade into without breaking the handle?).
I have also at last put up a decent site for my photography Linn Arvidsson Fine Art Photography Prints to which colour prints will be added as well in good time.

During the winter (boring season this year - hardly any snow at all - enough said about that) some new plans have taken shape. Lazy plans actually. Last year we repainted the house most of the summer. This year we talk about vacations, long evenings on the verandah and glasses of wine under the oak trees. Sounds quite agreeable to me...

Summer, not as far away as it feels sometimes...

A lethal combination

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Fri, 07 Apr 2006 13:35:00 +0000

The sun is shining. Please take that to protocol. I repeat; the sun is shining. Over the last weeks we’ve had snow, rain, storm, fog, more snow, rain again and so on. But today the sunshine is pouring down from an almost blue sky and the temperature is above zero degrees Celsius.

Did you by the way know that Celsius is named after the Swedish astronomer Anders Celsius who lived from 1701 to 1744? He invented a temperature scale based on water. In the original scale water freezes at 100°C and boils at 0°C (!). The scale was however reversed after just a few years. It probably seemed more logic to increase the figure with raising temperature than to do the opposite.
The Fahrenheit scale on the other hand is named after Daniel Gabriel Fahrenheit who was a German physicist who lived in the Netherlands for a big part of his life. He defined the coldest temperature attainable under laboratory conditions at that time as 0°F and the body temperature of a healthy horse as 100°F.
If I was to invent a temperature scale I’d set 0°L (degrees Linn) at the soil temperature when the first snowdrop ‘Galanthus nivalis’ starts to flower. 100°L would be the temperature of the wooden floor on my porch at sunset after a sunny summers day. It is a local scale, I admit. But a useful one. Between 0 and 100, life is good. And hey, it is not much stranger than the body temperature of a horse anyway.

Even if the sun is indeed shining, the soil is still frozen (i.e. below 0°L) and digging is out of the question. Since we live on the top of a hill with very cold clay it takes time before the winter loosens its grip on our piece of land. And apart from replanting the houseplants and ordering new plants from various suppliers, there are really not much other things to do. Ordering plants has its backdrops of course but oatmeal porridge is not to bad, is it? A few months of that and we are back on track again. Early spring I always get this sudden urge to buy roses. I love roses and in the perfect world I’d be completely surrounded by them. Since our garden is one and a half acre it might take some time but we’re working on it. In the mean time we eat porridge.

I know that there are plenty of gardeners now shaking their heads. Nothing much to do? Has she never heard of seeds? Sowing? Bringing up plants early? What kind of gardener is she? I’ll tell you – a forgetful one. I have a soft spot for plant catalogues. Send me a plant catalogue if you want to make me happy but don’t send one with lots of pictures. Send one with long scientific names in very small print. Odd varieties that no one has ever heard of and I am happy. Catalogues have seduced me more than once.

A flair for the odd and unusual combined with a tendency to overdo things and a hint of forgetfulness makes a lethal combination. What happens is this: I get seduced by the catalogue and order seeds. Many, many seeds. They arrive and after a few days, often very late at night when normal people are in bed, I sow them. Well, most of them anyway. If there are many seeds in a packet about half the amount get sown. I water and put the pots away.
The following weeks I look for a sign of life in the pots about four times a day. When some of the seeds eventually germinate I try to stop myself from being too eager. I tell myself to wait with the repotting a little to let some of the other seed get a chance to germinate to.
Thus, I forget all about it for two weeks and when I, in sudden horror, remember the seeds there is mold in 10% of the pots. In 40% of the pots nothing has happened. In another 10% the compost is dry and no seed will ever germinate there. Remains 40%.
These pots are miniature jungles. Now it is really time to repot them. I start. I buy more compost. I continue. I buy more pots. I continue. I place pots is every window and on every free surface in the house. And I remember what I always seem to forget - I hate repotting. It is simply dead boring.
If lucky I have remembered to mark the pots with the name of the plant. If even more lucky they actually survive until it’s time to bring them outdoors.
I then put them in the cold frame since they need a season to grow. The general idea is that the plants should grow one season in the cold frame and be planted out in the beds the following season.
Spring and summer come and go. Sun shines. Must, must remember to water the pots. Rain is pouring down. I hope the pots haven’t drowned. Birds are having fun with the nametags. Big problem.

Next spring, the huge amounts of pots are thawing. Things start to grow in them. Unfortunately I have by now no idea what is growing in what pot. To be honest I generally have lost the piece of paper where I wrote down what went in the pots in the first place. All I know it that it probably was something odd. What to do now? I wait. I wait and search the house for some information. If I actually find the note where I wrote down what was sawn the previous season, all I have to do is to figure out which of the pots that contain tall and sun loving perennials and which that contain ground covering varieties. And which contain weed. I have been known to carefully take care of birches, dandelions and Greater Plantain plants before realizing what I was doing.

This year I have a lot of pots standing in the cold frame as usual. But now I have made my mind up. No more seeds until I figure out a way to keep myself from repeating the pattern one more time. There has to be a way. I know there is, isn’t it?

Garden quote of today

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Wed, 29 Mar 2006 11:32:00 +0000

Spring is Nature's way of saying "let's party!"
- Unknown

They are alive...!

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Mon, 13 Mar 2006 10:45:00 +0000

March has entered our lives. The snow is still lying deep outside but you can feel the warmth of the sun and during the day the snow melts on the roofs and water droplets throw themselves out into the air.

Indoors, the houseplants look…well…hay like, sort of. Considering that they have spent an entire winter confined into small pots, in warm and dry air and with very little light I am more impressed that they manage to survive at all than I am worried about how they look. The Snake plant, Sansevieria trifasciata, is happy of course, as is the Zamioculcas zamiifolia. You have to be the Hannibal Lecter of plant owners to kill them. It is the Mediterranean plants that bring the atmosphere of hay barn. I like pelargoniums. They spend the summers on the porch looking nice and flowering happily. When the nights turn chillier, however the choice stands between letting them die or to bring them indoors. Often one can hear arguments such as: “Pelargoniums are really cheap to buy so why bother keeping them over winter?”. Those people are not real gardeners. They are plant killers in disguise. I say, you don’t kill a plant just because it is cheap. You just don’t. I build relations to my plants. I talk to them. Encouraging words when they seem to struggle. Happy words when they grow well. Gently dust their leaves when they turn a bit dusty and spray the air to increase moisture. You don’t throw such things away. No. In the autumn the plants move indoors to spend the winter on a windowsill.

Now imagine you are a Mediterranean plant. Apart from having green leaves and roots instead of arms and legs it means that you are built for hot and dry summers and winters that can be a bit chilly but where temperatures normally keep a few degrees above freezing point. Not to mention plenty of light. Please compare this with the description of their present conditions indoors and be amazed that they don’t give up right away. I am not sure I’d be so cooperative if I was a plant. And for what? A little water and some fertilizer if lucky. Nevertheless, they keep on living. All through winter they stand there, faithfully.

And now, at last, there is time for spring-cleaning. Contrary to what is often described in gardening books, I never cut back plants in the autumn. Experience has shown that they loose quite a bit of leaves and even some stems during the long winter months anyway, and that the plants cope better with the change from outdoor life to indoor life if they don’t have to struggle with the strain of being cut back as well. But now in middle march I remove all dead leaves and cut back pale winter growth. I lift them up from their old pots and put them into new ones, filled with fresh, moist compost – yummy goodies for a plant.

Life is back! Nothing can stop it now. Every spring is a triumph. Repotting doesn’t just mean cleaning the windowsills and making the plants happier. It is a ritual. A ritual that commands the winter to go away. Come on spring. We are waiting. Everything is ready for you. The plant look fresh and the smell from the new soil is the smell of life.

The old soil is taken out to the still frozen compost. When the rays of sun get warmer even this frozen lump will come alive and everything will start over again. It is nothing less than a miracle, but a miracle turning up regularly.

In my next post I will give you some insights as to what can happen if you combine a forgetful gardener with a bunch of seeds with difficult names.

Garden Quote of Today

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Thu, 26 Jan 2006 10:22:00 +0000

A garden is half-made when it is well planned. The best gardener is the one who does the most gardening by the winter fire.

Liberty Hyde Bailey

Could I have some more time please...?

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Fri, 20 Jan 2006 15:44:00 +0000

I am way behind schedule. On the kitchen table lie two garden magazines I haven’t had time to read and yesterday my favorite bulb company sent me their catalog. A small one without pictures but with long lists of scientific names. Makes me drool every time but this time I haven’t opened it yet. By the way, the non-gardening mood has passed away, thank you all who have expressed your concerns. Back to the timing issue, I can’t remember when I last had two fresh magazines to read. Not an entirely unpleasant feeling, though it had felt better if they were not two issues of the same magazine, last month’s and the current issue.

I am getting used to it now – being out of phase with seasons or events. My inner clock is simply not synchronized with the world outside. It has been going on quite some time and is one of the main reasons I try to keep away from sowing things that needs long time for propagation. Seeds ought to be sown in February I remember in May (the same year if I am lucky but there have been exceptions from that too), plants ought to be repotted early in the season are repotted in August and my pelargoniums have experienced summers indoors just because I was so busy doing something else that I forgot to put them outside.

What is needed here is a year with more months. Best of all would be if one had a couple of months to put in wherever needed. Feeling stressed because the vegetable garden looks a mess and there have been no sowing? No problem. Just put in another month - May second edition. In a hurry to put the garden to rest? We quickly take care of that by inserting another September. See? The solution is right there.

But since I haven’t got an extra month up the sleeve I have to cope with the twelve ones we’ve all got. Yet, I can’t stop thinking why is it that some people always are on time with everything? Sow their seeds on time. Know in advance what they are going to do? And never are surprised of finding plants they forgot they had?

Once I read that people who are very tired in the morning often have an inner clock set on 25 hours per day instead of 24. One can study this by letting people spend some time in rooms without windows and see how they organize their time. What if, I say, what if we constantly late gardeners really are made for a year with 13 or even 14 months? We are not unorganized, forgetful, lazy or anything so demeaning. Our inner season is just much longer than other gardeners and therefore it is cruel and irresponsible to expect us to squeeze in the gardening season in just 12 short months. We are victims of the order of Universe and a bit out of rhythm with the rest of the planet.

I really like this new theory. There ought to be place for a support group too. In these modern days we could even have an international group, website, forum and a convent a year (normal Earth year that is) where we can support each other in the difficult task of adapting to a world with a different frequency than our own.

Now all that needs to be done is finding a good explanation as to why I found radish seeds in my bathroom cabinet and if you’ll excuse me I’ll go and get the Christmas tree out of the house.

Non-gardening mode

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Thu, 05 Jan 2006 12:23:00 +0000

I believe the detoxification program helped (see post from December 12). I feel strangely relaxed and in a non-gardening mood. That is, I still like to read gardening books. I enjoy the taped programmes from the BBC series “How to be a gardener”. And I talk to the pelargoniums and promise them a summer on the porch if they just survive the winter. But that is really nothing. I have not been trying to locate the gardening tools. I have not tried to dig in the frozen ground (something known to happen from previous years). I have not even spread little notes around the house with sketches of new plantings, or notes on new plants that need to be bought or located. Instead I walk around thinking non-chlorophyllic thoughts. New experiences are always exciting and this one is really new!

I even have begun to think dirty and forbidden thoughts. Sensitive readers, please stop reading now. The rest of you, don’t say you weren’t warned. OK, here we go… I have always said ‘If I had unlimited funds of time and money, I’d know exactly what to do with the garden’. That is no longer true. I know what I’d like to do with the entrance but the rest…? The dirty thought that has been sneaking around in the back of my head is: perhaps I don’t need to change the more far parts of the garden at all. Perhaps they are OK as they are. I write these words with trembling fingers. Will the world, as we know it collapse? Will the great garden blog spirit come and get me? Will I be immensely ashamed of these words in a couple of weeks? Probably. Never the less, it feels quite revolutionizing and the thought has not quite settled yet.

The outback part in the garden is inhabited by fruit trees. We usually refer to it as ‘the meadow’ but please don’t ask me why because there have never been a meadow there. The point is that it is really fine as it is. A little wild. Romantic. Old trees growing graciously. Yes, I really think I’ll leave it as it is.

A new thought. A change of mind. But life is full of changes. Some are very sudden, others come so slowly they really just can be seen after a long time has passed. I have gone from being an enthusiastic, very organized but inexperienced gardener to be a slightly more experienced, but also more chaotic gardener. The journey has not been travelled alone. The plants have travelled alongside. Literally. I have planted them, changed my mind, moved them and replanted them, changed my mind, moved them and replanted them, … well, you get the general picture. Most plants are surprisingly forgiving. They continue to grow when they, once again have been moved to a new place. By experience I therefore can tell that it is a myth that peonies can’t be moved. They can. Best done in the fall and if one try to disturb the roots as little as possible. Most of the times, however, they survive moves in other seasons to. They look at you a little annoyed the following year or two but as peonies generally are forgiving natures they usually accept that what is done is done and now let’s get on with our lives. The roses too have been moved several times. But last time it really wasn’t my fault. The season after they had been planted a water pipe broke and most of the rose garden had to be dug up to change the pipe. The choice stood between having no water in the house or to move the roses. The family took a quick vote – I lost – and the roses were moved. They spent the whole season and the following winter in the vegetable garden since this was the only pot where there was any bare soil to be found. The roses looked more than shocked to be put in such humble surroundings. A little lecture of old times (they are historic roses after all) and the sight of the excavator however, silenced them. Now they have once again moved and all but the wild Rosa multiflora have left this humiliating times behind them. She on the other hand found she had more in common with the carrots and cabbage than with her snobbish relatives so she moved in for good. At the moment we all live in perfect harmony.

And maybe there is even hope for me. I just found myself talking encouraging to the compost when I passed it. My inner gardener isn’t completely gone. She just dozed of for a moment.

Reflections from Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Wed, 28 Dec 2005 23:47:00 +0000

Christmas time – resting time. With the rest of the year running at approximately 180 mph these days provide a much needed chance the rest. And a chance to read. As always I wanted books for Christmas, gardening books. And, apparently I've been good during the year because books I got. I have to admit that I make quite specific wishes for Christmas. I have been known to include the ISBN-number. But on the other hand how is the family supposed to know what books are of interest. I absolute love gardening books and especially gardening essays. The all time favorite is The Gardener’s Year by Karel Capek. It has everything a great gardening book should have - wisdom, experience, humor and words of comfort for those moments when the bugs seem to win the battle. The trend these last years has been that I have become less and less interested in the how-to books. Less interested in what we do to the garden and more interested in what it does to us.

Being a time for reflection as Christmas is I have been reflecting upon why I am so passionate about gardening and not about say, motorcycles or sports (ehh, yes…). I have heard lots of theories as to why we garden – both God and Darwin seem to have been involved in some of the more philosophical theories. My answer to the question is that I really don’t know but that I am happy to have an interest that is so rewarding. Maybe it is just a coincidence that it was gardening that got me and not something else.

Come to think about it, I believe I owe at least a part of my gardening interest to two men. One is my father – himself a passionate gardener and collector of rhododendrons – the other one is an unknown nurseryman. I might have been around four years old when my father took me to the local nursery to buy some plants, flowers, a shrub perhaps, I don’t know. What I do know is that we passed a rack of petunias. They were white, pink, blue. When we had finished our shopping the nurseryman looked at me and said: “I’ll give you something”. And then he reached for a pink petunia and said: “This is yours, Take care of it”. Oh, was I proud! I, Linn, a lady of four years was the owner of a plant. When we came home it was planted on a good and sunny spot in the garden where it would thrive and where it could be seen. Every day I went to it. Talked to it. Watered it. Deadheaded it. It was probably the most spoilt plant in the country. And it was a grateful one. It flowered and flowered and flowered all summer long. Even today, almost thirty years later, a smile come to my face when I think about it. My first very own plant.

If you want your children to enjoy gardening, don’t make them weed the vegetable garden or use them to fetch tools. That doesn’t spark any passion. Give them a plant that is their own. Help them to make it thrive. It might change their lives. (And yes, it is allowed to water the plant, weed around it and mulch it when the child is asleep to ensure the survival of it - just don't tell the child.)

Garden Quote of Today

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Fri, 16 Dec 2005 09:02:00 +0000

Gardening is an exercise in optimism. Sometimes, it is the triumph of hope over experience"
--Marina Schinz

Thanks to Nelumbo for the quote.

Garden sick

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Mon, 12 Dec 2005 14:06:00 +0000

I want to dig! Honestly! I want to dig big holes in the lawn and plant shrubs and trees. Dig somewhat smaller holes around it; remove yet another piece of lawn and plant ground covering perennials. You’ve got it. I suffer from garden sickness.

The ground is frozen and there is no chance whatsoever to get a spade into it. People (non-gardening people that is) tend to look a bit funny when I tell them I like to dig. I know digging is hard work. You get dirty and sweaty but it is also very rewarding. Not only do you get a full body workout, you also get a reason to go to the nursery and buy a plant or two – what gym or aerobics class can provide such an offer? The main reason for my digging craze however is that digging is more than exercise and a chance to put yet another plant into the garden – it is a source for stress relief. When I dig, I dig. I put every frustrating event from the day and put it into the force of the spade. Tensions get relieved. The mind get to rest and after a few descent sized holes, the troubles usually seem a bit less troublesome.

But now it’s December. What to do? Reading gardening magazines does not help – I need the physical aspect of gardening. If you promise not to tell anyone I’ll let you in on a secret… I have started exercising. Honestly! Me! Believe it or not but it is a fact. Desperate situations call for desperate actions.

What would be needed is some kind of de-escalating program for garden lovers to follow every fall. I suggest a five step-program.

Step one: Look around the garden and say: “Winter is coming. I will rest and enjoy other things than gardening”. When you can say this without starting to run around and scream or starting to cry you are ready for step two. Serous gardening maniacs may need to start the therapy in June to reach step two before Christmas.

Step two: After a day of gardening, bring every tool back to the tool shed or where they are supposed to be (no, no… not where they usually are, where they are SUPPOSED to be). Every time say: “I bring my tools back to prevent them from lying scattered in the garden during the winter”.

Step three: Stop gardening before dark. Yes, I know the days are getting shorter and shorter. That’s the whole idea. This gives a natural lowering of the amount of daily gardening and a good preparation for next step.

Step four: Choose a gray and rainy day and say: “I choose not to garden today”. Let the decision sink in. Keep busy and do not cheat. The fourth step is the most difficult one, so take your time. Do not get over ambitious and promise yourself not to garden on a sunny day. That could ruin the whole five-step-program. Start with a rainy day. Then continue with a cloudy day and, after a while and depending on how severe a gardening maniac you are, you can keep away from gardening even on a sunny day.

Step five: Almost there. You should now feel a lot calmer and more relaxed and be ready to face a non-gardening winter. The final step means finding a hobby that does not involve gardening. Almost anything is ok: stamp collecting, Tibetan throat singing, ballet dancing. No, staring out of the window does not count as a hobby!

See, now the winter will pass more easily than ever before. Maybe I should write a self-help book. It could even be a TV-show. Hmm, what network would be interested?

Garden quote of today

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Sun, 04 Dec 2005 20:40:00 +0000

Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them
- A. A. Milne, Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh

Welcome snow!

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Tue, 29 Nov 2005 08:19:00 +0000

The first real snow of the year is here and everything is covered with its white, forgiving blanket. The world looks clean and fresh and no one can see I forgot to take in my tools his fall either, not even me. In fact, I can’t even find them.

One of the disadvantages with being an optimistic gardener with a lot of ideas, ability for starting projects and a lack of ability to finish them is that you spend ridiculous amounts of time looking for your tools. They are where I got the last idea. Unfortunately, I can’t always remember where that was.

This is how it works. I come home from somewhere, see a flower that I haven’t seen before and of course I have to go looking at it. After having made the flowers acquaintance I see some weed that needs to be removed. The now gone weed reveals a need for mulch – of to the compost to get some nice material. On my way back I see a rambling rose that needs help with its trellis, so I mulch the flower and then head of to help the rose. Now I am somewhere in the near of the kitchen garden where I usually find some rape sugar peas (I could live on just sugar peas if I had to). Happily I go there, have some peas, talk to the vegetables, get a planting spade to remove a dandelion that threatens to suffocate the salad. Oh look! The irises are flowering. I bought them, as very small rhizomes and now, finally I will get to see the flowers. Of to them! Thus, I jump from plant to plant and from part to part in the garden. Four hours later I have weeded a little, eaten some more sugar pea pods, moved some plants to a better place, said some encouraging words to the bees and some less encouraging words to the Lily Beetles. What I haven’t done yet is reached the front door or changed my clothes. I tend to garden in skirt and high heels. My handbag is to be found somewhere along the trace as is every gardening tool we have. Luckily my husband eventually starts a rescue mission to find me and make sure I get something to eat, Otherwise I would probably be out there till midnight, falling asleep by the rhubarbs.

This works well during the growing season. When everything is growing and flowering it gives the garden a lush and generous feeling. It is November that is the problem. In November all the leaves have left the branches and cover the ground. The perennials have died back and the bushes stand there, all naked. As a gardener I am quite happy about it. The leaves help everything to survive the winter and give the worms something to do. The perennials (at least some of them) will look very nice in the winter, covered with frost or snow, so I don’t mind them either.
But as someone who welcomes non-gardening people to her house, well, I am not so happy about it. Then I suddenly see that everything is either grey or muddy brown. That the wheelbarrow still stands in the middle of the lawn (in the middle of a project of course, what else) and that the perennial stems make everything look untidy. Non-gardening people seem to believe that the garden of an enthusiast should look tidy, neat and at its best, at every moment of the year. Well, maybe it should, but it doesn’t.
Therefore it is always a relief when the snow arrives. In one moment the naked trees and bushes start looking pretty again. Event the perennials look good. No muddy brown, just a soft white, clean cover. The transformation is complete. Now I calmly await new visitors and when someone say ‘It looks just like a Christmas card’ I smile, happily aware of the fact that no one knows the large thing on the lawn is not a bush, it’s the wheel barrow and that the gardening tools are lost, once again.

Garden quote of today

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Thu, 24 Nov 2005 07:51:00 +0000

A garden is never so good as it will be next year.

Thomas Cooper

Split personality

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Mon, 21 Nov 2005 13:10:00 +0000

I think I am a split personality.

The ordered and wise Linn helps beginner gardeners by answering questions and telling people how to arrange their gardens to be easy to maintain (the most usual wish of them all), interesting all year round and in what order things ought to be done for best result.

The spontaneous, slightly chaotic Linn looks at her own garden and feels like screaming - HELP! Life continues to go on without giving me the extra hours needed to arrange the garden properly. To be honest, I doubt that I really would arrange the garden properly even if I got 30 hours a day instead of 24. I probably just would find a thousand more projects to dive into. Every new idea has to be tried on. A variety of new plats need to be tested and new holes have to be dug.

And I believe that it’s there somewhere the key to understanding lies. The people I help with gardening advise usually want a nice garden to surround the house they live in. When we bought our home I bought a garden and luckily there was a house in it too. Both ways of looking at the garden are perfectly all right. They just are very different.

I live with my garden, follow it and am constantly being fascinated by it. For me, gardening is a process. When I weed and find a plant I do not recognize I have to let it grow just to see what it is. The birds planted three sunflowers by my rhododendrons a few years ago. It looked kind of funny with the three tall flowers above the low rhododendrons, azaleas and lilies. But I just couldn’t take them away. They grew so fast and I was curious just to see how tall they would become. And I have a passionate relationship with my compost. The process never ceases to amaze me. Cut grass, scraps of food, twigs etc goes in and out comes the best, darkest and richest soil there is. It even smells good. Amazing!
Oh, and I speak to worms to. I apologize when I dig them up. It is probably a good thing that we live in the countryside with very few neighbors.

With this relationship to everything living I do not think it is possible to get a well-ordered garden that looks like cut from a gardening magazine. And if it is possible, please don’t tell me. Let me live with this assumption through the grey days of November. In January I’ll start to make new plans again. By then I am ready to listen to advise.

Garden quote of today

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Fri, 18 Nov 2005 12:14:00 +0000

I once read about the dangers of gardening; so I quit reading for two weeks.

Garden quotes for Christmas?

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Mon, 14 Nov 2005 12:01:00 +0000

It will hardly come as a surprise for you to hear that I like gardening quotes.
In fact, I like them so much I have created a small webshop. Let me show you some of my creations. There is more to come, I just have to find the time.

If you know a really great gardening quote I'd be very glad if you'd like to send it to me.
If it is a really good one I'll post it as "Quote of today".

Garden quote of today

noreply@blogger.com (Linn) — Mon, 14 Nov 2005 07:39:00 +0000

God made rainy days so gardeners could get the housework done.