Some of my garden photos on FineArt America

Snowdrops and honeybees

Spring is here and daytime temperatures are getting warmer. I did several days' work in the garden during the past two weeks. I usually make myself lunch and a thermos of tea, and start my garden day by eating lunch in the garden. Then I get to work, raking, cutting dead flowers, clipping the raspberry and blackberry bushes, and spreading compost soil on the vegetable beds in order to prep them for the coming garden season. I've also sowed out different seeds in the greenhouse--pumpkin, butternut squash, tomatoes, rose mallows, sunflowers, and hollyhocks. There is still a lot of prep work to do, but it's work that relaxes me in this pandemic time. Who knew that we would be starting a second year of this scourge? At least when I'm in the garden, I don't think about the pandemic at all. 

It's still too early for most flowers to bloom, but the bulbs are beginning to poke their heads up out of the soil--crocuses, daffodils, tulips, and hyacinths. The only flowers that have bloomed so far are the snowdrops. They're spread around the garden (by design) and each year the patches grow a bit larger. This past Monday, the largest patch had visitors--honeybees and a butterfly. I didn't know that they liked snowdrops, but they do, and now I know that. Nature always has something new to show us, to teach us. Here's a photo I took the other day, showing a couple of bees if you look closely. 

A year of the pandemic

Mid-March will mark the one-year anniversary of the month in 2020 when life as we knew it came to a grinding halt. Normalcy disappeared, replaced by uncertainty and a fair amount of gloom and doom. People were told to work from home if they could. Day-care centers closed, likewise most schools and universities. Restaurants, bars, theaters, movie theaters, malls and shops also closed. Plane travel ceased, as did international travel. Supermarkets remained open, as did shops deemed essential for the daily lives of men and women. Norway did not institute a curfew, but all of the above closings constituted a lockdown of society, however partial. 

When the pandemic first began, my husband and I were glued to all the news programs we could find about the coronavirus. We watched the news religiously, and read the rapidly multiplying scientific articles about the virus. We wanted to learn as much about it as we could. Norwegian immunology and virology experts weighed in with their opinions. Politicians and health officials collaborated on a daily basis. I watched Andrew Cuomo and Anthony Fauci in the USA update the public on the latest about the virus and the numbers of people infected as well as the number of deaths. Intensive care units in hospitals were overwhelmed, as were funeral homes. The media photos of mass burials around the world will stay in my mind for always. 

There was nowhere to go, so we went nowhere. We ordered food delivered to our home from time to time. I stocked up on face masks in anticipation of the coming winter; I knew the pandemic would not be over by then. Last March, however, I had a different kind of hope than I do now. Having never experienced a pandemic before, I went into it, probably like many others, with expectations that the scientists would have it covered and that it might also just die out like the flu viruses often do after wintertime. But the infection rate of this virus didn't seem to wax and wane with the seasons. It worsened after vacation times, whether it was summer vacation, autumn vacation, or Christmas vacation. 

The pandemic was the year that Trump got louder and louder, and grew bigger and bigger until he finally burst. He lost the presidential election, refused to accept that loss, and fomented a rebellion and a capitol invasion that will forever in my mind be linked to the year of the pandemic. People lost their minds, literally, and followed an unstable man into an unstable and divided future. 

I worked from home, and found out that I enjoyed it, until I realized that it might be a permanent situation. But I stayed focused and got my work done, usually by 3 pm each day. That left time in March for watching the HBO series My Brilliant Friend, which I looked forward to watching each day like I used to do when I followed specific soap operas on television many moons ago. When April came, I went to work in my garden after my workday was done. That got me outdoors and kept me physically active and busy so I had no time to think about the virus. It stayed that way until early November, when the garden was closed for the winter. And then came Christmas, followed by the months of January and February which I liken to a wasteland for all they contribute to my life at present. But we are healthy so I can't complain. As the one-year anniversary approaches, I am also glad for Netflix and HBO--for all the movies and series they offer--some of them excellent. There is always something to watch on the streaming channels, unlike regular television channels that are a complete wasteland and waste of time. I also have mostly given up listening to the news--it's depressing and keeps us stuck in the same mindset.

I've realized that having a garden and being to work in it from April until November kept me sane. It got me outdoors together with my fellow gardeners, and we could chat with each other at safe distances. No one took any stupid chances; we behaved and followed the rules for not getting infected. It worked. I am grateful for my garden because it saved me. It provided peace of mind when I could not find it anywhere else. Besides the activities one has to do in a garden in order for it to flourish, the garden let me think of other things, like why did the honeybees gather at the birdbath to drink water. At times there were twenty or thirty of them lined up on the rim of the birdbath. It was an incredible sight to behold, and I loved it. Or the day when the sparrows decided to bathe together en masse in the birdbath--chirping and flapping their wings while enjoying their bath. And then they would all fly away together, and then fly back to the birdbath together. It was truly a communal bee- and bird-bath last summer. 

I bring this up now because I cannot wait to be able to get back to my garden this year. January and February have had me climbing the walls of our apartment. It was bitter cold for most of January, so going outdoors was a chore. I did so anyway since the sun shone and the days were lovely. But cold it was. Just being outdoors kept me sane, even if I froze doing it. But I miss the interactions with other people. Humans are not made for isolation. I went back to work more during the past few months, despite the continued recommendation to work from home. I needed to see co-workers in person. I discovered that I hate zoom meetings and most things digital as far as work-related activities are concerned. I want real-life people that I can physically relate to in real-time, not virtual. I would prefer a room full of masked people that had gathered for a meeting, rather than a zoom meeting. My heart goes out to all those who live alone; it must be difficult whether you are young or old. I feel for students and young people whose social lives have been severely restricted. And yet, what else is there to look forward to if we don't follow the rules? My sense of hope has changed; it is tinged with a sorrow for mankind in case life never really returns to normal. I hope it does, but you never know. And some of that sorrow is for myself, since I never for one moment considered that my yearly trip to NY would disappear last summer and most likely this summer. I miss the other life I have in NY with my good friends and my family. 

I feel for people who don't have a haven, a refuge to go to, to get away from the news, the virus, the regulations and restrictions, the slow vaccination process, the new virus mutant variants, the constant talk about how many people are infected and how many have died. It's all too much, and it overwhelms the mind. I've talked to several people about fuzzy brain function lately, due to the anxiety and stress of living with the pandemic day in and day out. One can only hope that it comes to an end very soon. 

Autumn has arrived in the garden

I know that autumn has arrived when the Pholiota squarrosoides mushrooms appear at the base of the dead cherry tree. They appear each year around this time. They have nestled themselves very nicely in the sedum that I planted this year behind the coral bells. I took this photo recently and thought it was very pretty. Enjoy!

 

The bird bath is a popular meeting place

A few days ago, it was the sparrows who were enjoying a communal bath in the birdbath in the garden. Today, it was a meeting place for many of the garden's honeybees who were eagerly drinking the water. It was a warm and dry day, so that was probably the explanation for why there were so many (at one point I counted up to sixteen bees sitting on the rim of the bath). I have never seen so many of them gathered at the 'drinking hole' before. They were buzzing to and fro, landing on the rim of the bath and then taking off again. A few of them ended up in the water, twirling about like whirligigs. If they don't get find their way out of the water quickly, they can drown. So I have helped them out a few times, offering a (gloved) finger or a stick for them to climb on. They grab on eagerly, and if they're not too waterlogged, they fly away fairly quickly, which always makes me happy. This is a video of the bees today in the garden. 

Some photos from a late August garden

Some photos of the garden from this past Saturday. Enjoy!

The importance of gardens and gardening

• The best place to find God is in a garden. You can dig for him there. --George Bernard Shaw
• The glory of gardening: hands in the dirt, head in the sun, heart with nature. To nurture a garden is to feed not just on the body, but the soul. --Alfred Austin
• No occupation is so delightful to me as the culture of the earth, and no culture comparable to that of the garden. --Thomas Jefferson
• Let us not forget that the cultivation of the earth is the most important labor of man. When tillage begins, other arts will follow. The farmers, therefore, are the founders of civilization. --Daniel Webster
• Help us to be ever faithful gardeners of the spirit, who know that without darkness nothing comes to birth, and without light nothing flowers. --May Sarton
• How deeply seated in the human heart is the liking for gardens and gardening. --Alexander Smith
• Gardens are not made by singing 'Oh, how beautiful,' and sitting in the shade. --Rudyard Kipling
• A garden requires patient labor and attention. Plants do not grow merely to satisfy ambitions or to fulfill good intentions. They thrive because someone expended effort on them. --Liberty Hyde Bailey
• To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower Hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour. --William Blake
• Remember that children, marriages, and flower gardens reflect the kind of care they get. --H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
• A good garden may have some weeds. --Thomas Fuller
• A weed is a plant that has mastered every survival skill except for learning how to grow in rows. --Doug Larson
• Flowers always make people better, happier, and more helpful; they are sunshine, food and medicine for the soul. --Luther Burbank
• Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace. --May Sarton
• It's true that I have a wide range of interests. I like to write and paint and make music and go walking on my own and garden. In fact, gardening is probably what I enjoy doing more than anything else. --Viggo Mortensen
• God Almighty first planted a garden. And indeed, it is the purest of human pleasures. --Francis Bacon
• We learn from our gardens to deal with the most urgent question of the time: How much is enough? --Wendell Berry
• When the flower blooms, the bees come uninvited. --Ramakrishna

Beautiful rose mallows, coneflowers, and gladiolas in my garden

Bumblebee nest?

A couple of years ago, I bought a hedgehog house online and placed it under the huge rose bush in the garden. As it turned out, it was never used for hedgehogs because the garden board would not allow us to take in hedgehogs since there are badgers in the vicinity of the community garden, and they are known to kill hedgehogs. So the hedgehog house has been standing empty ever since, until recently. Last week I was cleaning up all of the dead leaves and refuse under the rose bush, and my eye happened to light upon something of interest inside the hedgehog house. It looked like a symmetrically-shaped ornament with a hole in the top. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a nest of some sort. My first thought was that it was a bumblebee nest, since bumblebees do make their homes on the ground under protective coverings, e.g. an upside-down flower pot or a compost bin (as I have also witnessed this summer). I took a few photos of it in order to search online afterward. I am fairly sure it is a bumblebee nest. But if any of you have other suggestions, I'd love to hear them.

Mid-July garden update

Despite the incessant rain and unstable weather, despite the fluctuations in temperature, my garden is doing/has done a good job of producing zucchinis, strawberries, raspberries, and black currants. We won't get red currants this year, but we will get gooseberries. The pumpkin plants are starting to grow pumpkins, and we'll see how far they come along by the end of August. We will need more sun and warmth for them to grow and thrive. My potato and carrot plants will also yield potatoes and carrots, but they're not ready yet. Ditto for the tomato plants; I planted cherry tomato and full-size tomato plants. I'm unsure how well the string bean plants will produce; the slugs seem to like the leaves and chew them up so that the plants themselves become stressed and eventually die. The three corn plants are growing, but I don't hold out much hope for their producing full ears of corn before the summer warmth is over.

I post these garden updates for myself as much as for my readers. It helps me to keep track of my garden's progress each season. I definitely had beginner's luck with my fifteen corn plants during the first garden season; they grew well and produced at least twelve good ears of corn. It's been downhill ever since for success with corn. With each new gardening season, you learn something new and what not to focus on. The past two years have seen a lot of rain during the summer months here in Oslo, which is something that may force me to re-evaluate what I plant in the coming years.

One of the more interesting things that happened this year--I empty the compost bin at the end of the gardening season and spread the new earth onto the raised beds in preparation for the following year's plantings. Then I begin to fill the compost bin with the dead plants and refuse from the current season. I did that last autumn with the dead marigolds and cornflowers; amazingly enough, they began to grow and blossom on one side of the compost bin this year, as you can see from the second to last picture when you scroll down. So they must have seeded and been quite happy during the winter months, covered with new compost and kept warm until the spring. I also planted my giant sunflower plants (grown from seed in the greenhouse) behind the compost bin; I use the bin to support them and it is working out well so far.

Here are some photos of how the garden looks right now:

Astilbe plant--red goat's beard

the pumpkin patch

behind the greenhouse

tomato plants

zucchinis growing

more zucchinis

raspberry bushes

gooseberry bush

flower garden 

close-up of flower garden

strawberry patches (harvest is pretty much over for this year)

rose mallows growing

Veronica spicata plant (the bees love it)

a rare sunny day in the garden this year

lots of raspberries this year

a type of marigold 

sunflower plants behind the compost bin, and marigolds and cornflowers to the left

black currants

Beautiful iris from my garden

My garden makes me aware that there is beauty in everything, from a tiny earthworm wriggling its way through the earth, to a honeybee drinking water from the birdbath, to the lovely flowers that are blooming en masse now. I have become aware of colors--all shades and hues of colors--because they are in abundance in a garden. The different greens in the leaves of different plants and how they reflect the sun's light shining through them, the varying shades of blues and violets, the brown color of the earth and what that tells you about the quality of the soil. The list is long. I could post many photos of the different flowers that are blooming or have bloomed this year, but I've settled on posting one today, because suddenly this year, my iris plants produced many flowers, and they are beautiful. So here is one photo of a lovely iris bloom.....it's just a pity that they don't last very long.

Mid-June garden update

We've had wonderfully warm and sunny weather for the past week, which the garden just loves. The daily growth spurts are amazing. From one day to the next, I come to the garden to find that the flower buds on my physocarpus (ninebark) plant have bloomed; the leaves of the plant are a deep red color, whereas the flowers are white and fuzzy--quite pretty. The kaprifol (honeysuckle) plant right next to it is blooming and happy. The zucchini plants have also grown larger in the space of a couple of days, and yesterday they had begun to flower. The pumpkin plants have also begun to spread out. My mini-cucumber plants are producing some really good-tasting cucumbers, ditto for my radish plants. This year will be a banner year for strawberries, raspberries, and black currants, also gooseberries. The red currant bush produced thousands of berries last year, so this year it's taking a well-deserved rest. One of the two blackberry bushes developed cane rot, so I had to cut it down, but it's already coming back and seems to be in good shape. My perennial garden is blooming--oxeye daisies, carnations, and cranesbill (a hardy geranium) so far. My coral bell (Heuchera) plants have spread out and are quite healthy, and my irises this year are just beautiful. The pachysandra plants that I planted under one of the larger trees at the entrance to the garden have grown taller and are beginning to spread out. So things are moving along as they naturally do in the garden. Here are some photos of the garden from this past Saturday--you can see for yourself!

oxeye daisies

ninebark flowers

zucchini plant starting to flower

left side of the flower garden (mostly perennials)

right side of the flower garden--check out the crane's bill plant with blue flowers

the coral bells perennial garden--they are just gorgeous plants 

my rose bushes that cover the arch entrance to the garden have started to bloom 

my irises are blooming this year--so many of them 

Two weeks makes such a difference in a garden

My last garden update was on May 11th. Since that time, the weather has gotten warmer (almost summer-like), and the garden has just taken off. It's like someone turned the switch to 'on'. I have bought a number of new plants for my flower garden--a Japanese maple that will be the new centerpiece of the garden, surrounded by hosta, cornflowers, asters, carnations, and more lavender. I also planted wild ivy along the iron fence behind the greenhouse, in the hope that it will take off and cover the entire fence so that we will get some privacy. That whole area, from the fence to the greenhouse, has been planted with flowers, pachysandra, and hosta, among others. The magnolia tree has bloomed, and still has six buds getting ready to bloom. The wisteria tree is also doing well. My garden neighbour gave me a dogwood tree last autumn that is also doing very well. I have sowed out grass seed, and the grass is starting to spring up, but it takes time before there will be a lawn to speak of. I planted sunflowers behind the compost enclosure, and they are coming up. Behind the greenhouse itself, I have planted sweet pea flowers, which are lovely. Sweet pea plants are climbers, and produce lovely red and bluish-purple fragrant flowers.

My vegetable garden is also doing well. The radishes are finished, so I am harvesting them and using them in salads, and they are very good. My potato plants (Folva type) are also doing very well; I have about thirty plants, each of which will produce about three good-sized potatoes, plus some small ones. The small ones will be used for next year's plantings; I store them in the crisper during the wintertime and they develop eyes and sprouts--perfect for planting. This year I bought three sweet potato plants to see how they do. Otherwise, I've planted two types of pumpkins that are now starting to take off, and four summer squash (zucchini) plants, which usually do very well. I've decided to plant all of my tomato plants outdoors this year; the greenhouse gets so warm that even though they do well inside, they are constantly in need of water.

The Japanese maple, like hydrangeas, needs low pH soil, so I bought hydrangea soil and planted the maple tree with it. So far so good. I am curious to see how the hydrangeas will like this soil as well. I have had major problems with them coming back each year. The panicled hydrangeas that I bought last year have come back without any problems whatsoever, so I don't know why regular hydrangeas are so problematic.

Here's how the garden looked two days ago; compare the pics to those from May 11th. Again, the miracle of gardens--they grow and do what they do without making a big deal about it. They're amazing, majestic, awe-inspiring. I could live in my garden the entire summer. Love my garden...….