flower, gardening

Sunflower

Up here in the north, sunflowers (Helianthus annuus) are not something I buy very often. Not because I don’t like them—quite the opposite—but somehow they feel like a plant made for warmer places, long summers, and endless sunshine. Our season is shorter, more uncertain, and I’ve always wondered if they truly settle in here the way they should.

A few days ago, though, I noticed them at the garden centre. Tall, confident, already in bloom—bright yellow faces turning gently toward the light. They stood there like small pieces of summer itself. I paused, of course. Admired them. But the price tag made the decision easy enough: I walked away.

Or so I thought.

When I returned a few days later, things had changed. The same sunflowers were still there, but now slightly wilder, a little less polished—and marked down. The kind of quiet invitation that is hard to resist. This time I didn’t hesitate for long. I brought home two plants and suddenly I was carrying a bit of that golden warmth.

This variety is especially lovely. Instead of a single large flower, it produces many blooms—branching out into smaller, softer “plumes” of yellow. It feels lighter somehow, less formal than the traditional tall sunflower with its bold central disk. There’s something generous about it, the way it flowers again and again.

They’ve now been planted at the summer place, where the light is open and the evenings long. Even in these northern conditions, they already seem at ease, catching the sun whenever it appears and holding onto it.

Sunflowers, in general, are surprisingly adaptable. Although they are often associated with heat, they are fast growers and can manage well if given enough light and a sheltered spot. Their roots run deep, and once established, they carry a certain resilience—something I perhaps underestimate every year.

And there is something else about them too. They bring a different kind of mood into the garden. Not delicate like violets or nostalgic like geraniums, but cheerful, almost bold. They don’t ask quietly for attention—they offer it freely.

So perhaps I will not wait so long next time. Even here, even in the north, there is room for a little more sunlight.

Standard
flower, gardening

Garden Grape Hyacinth

Some plants have a quiet way of returning to our lives, year after year, without ever feeling repetitive. The garden grape hyacinth (Muscari armeniacum) is one of those. Almost every spring, I find myself bringing one home, as if it has become a small but meaningful tradition. Yet another grape hyacinth has joined my spring collection.

What draws me to them is their timing. Grape hyacinths are among the early bloomers, arriving just when the garden is still shaking off winter. There is something comforting about their compact form and upright clusters of tiny bells, standing steady while much of the garden is still waking up. They never rush, yet they’re always right on time.

I have two familiar colours: deep blue and soft white. I haven’t come across any other shades for this variety, and honestly, I’m not sure I’m looking for them. The classic blue feels timeless, almost nostalgic, while the white brings a gentle lightness that fits beautifully into early spring. Together, they complement each other quietly, without competing for attention.

For now, these grape hyacinths stay close, settled on the balcony where I can enjoy them every day and watch them change as the season moves forward. After their blooming has passed, they will make their usual journey to the summer cottage. There, they’ll be planted into the garden soil, where they can settle in, return the following spring, and slowly become part of the landscape. I like the idea that each plant carries a small story with it — where it was first enjoyed, before finding its longer home.

Perhaps that’s why I keep buying one each year. Not because I need another, but because each grape hyacinth marks a moment in time. A spring that arrived early or late, a season that felt gentle or rushed. They are simple plants, but a true delight — reliable, modest, and rewarding in their own quiet way.

Standard
flower, gardening

Ice Wings

It has been a great year for Ice Wings (Narcissus ‘Ice Wings’). They have been the most successful variety of daffodils by far. Blooming everywhere beautifully.

Usually the daffodil season is over by June but this year the spring has been cool and the late varieties are just starting they show.

Spending the week here in the summer cottage has been just what I needed. Did not realize how exhausted I have been.

Buried my father on Tuesday. Miss him so much. He was the kindest person I have ever known. But that is how life goes. Our time here has its limits and goes surprisingly quickly.

Standard
gardening

Snowball

Today is the longest day of the year up here in the north. The night is only a bit longer than four hours. In other words lots of light available for the plants.

The snowball bush (Viburnum opulus) is at its best and full of flowers.

The Snowball is a very decorative shrub blooming with huge green flowers which turn gradually to brilliant white as the season progresses.

Standard
gardening

Borlotto Lingua di Fuoco Nano

Because of the rapidly cooling nights I was forced to collect the bean harvest a bit earlier than I wished. They could have used two more weeks to ripe.

Borlotto Lingua di Fuoco Nano (Phaseolus vulgaris ‘Borlotto Lingua di Fuoco Nano’) is the other bean variety I tried this year for the first time. They grew well and going to continue to grow them next year as well. I like the way they look and the unique coloring they have.

This variety is also called with the name Tongue of fire. There seem to be several different recipes what to make out of the beans. Cannot wait to try some of them.

Standard
gardening

Nova Zembla

Something new for the garden. Bought two Nova Zemblas (Rhododendron ‘Nova Zembla’) to the summer cottage.

Fell in love with the bright color they have.

The location is a bit too north for them but decided to give it a try. It usually depends on the amount of snow fall how well they do during the winter. Enough snow protects them from the coldness.

Standard
gardening

Cunningham’s White

The Cunningham’s White (Rhododendron ’Cunningham’s White’) is a new addition to the garden.

Bought two plants last year and both of them made it through the winter. We are a bit too north for them but let’s see how they make it in the following years. This winter we had plenty of snow to protect the newcomers but that is not the case each year.

My father’s plant is blooming beautifully but the other one I planted to the other side of the lake is doing well but not going to bloom.

Standard
flower, gardening

Wild Daffodil

The speed is now staggering. With in a bit more than a week everything has changed.

Suddenly all trees now have leaves and it seems that everything is blooming. Change happens fast up here in the north because summer is short and over in a blink of an eye.

Daffodil (Narcissus pseudonarcissus) also opened its blooms. I bought it last year from Ikea and was a bit unsure how it will turn out but it seems that all is well.

Standard
flower, gardening

Pansy

The first pansy (viola) found its way to my balcony during the weekend.

I know it is a bit early for them because the nights might get too cold still but could not resist the temptation to have something blooming outside.

It will be interesting to see what kind of colors there will be available this year. I usually go for the light colors since they stand out better in the shade.

Standard