Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods

Calling for Camelia help

            Iam reading the Camelia book Terje bought me in Tage Andersen's studio, and a dream is growing, growing fast. I want to try to grow camelias. Or at least one camelia. But camelias don't grow here in Norway, and I have no idea where to find one. A plant, a cutting, seeds........anything will do.

Yesterday I visited ALL flowershops in downtown Trondheim, at least it felt like all."Camelias? No, we don't have them" "Camelias? No, I haven't seen any in years" "Camelia, camelia? Is that a plant" "Well, we had one at Christmas time some years ago" "I am sorry, but wait, I think I saw one some time ago, may be you can try at ....., or you can ask at ......., they have their own greenhouses and might manage to have some survivers. Camelias are not easy to grow you now"

            I am Norwegian, Viking blood flowing in my veins, of stubborn roots and all that. I can't give up so easily. So now I am crying for help. Several hundred people are reading my blog every day. SEVERAL HUNDRED???????, yes, my statistic tells me so. There must be someone among you who can help me. May be a tiny little seed? Or some information? I am 50 and I want a camelia.

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Photos: from one of the flowers shops I visited.

Before the long sleep

          October has come and our long and unexpected Indian Summer must come to an end. The days are shorter, and the nights are cold, cold, cold. Frost is right around the corner and it is time to find comfortable sleeping areas for plants which are not comfortable with the long, cold and dark Nordic winters.

 

            My morning walk in the garden is extra long today. I pick huge bouquets of roses, I mix colours and make small and large bouquets fo late flowers for every room in our house. It is better to enjoy the beauty and the colours for a few days indoors than be sad the morning you woke up only to discover that the frost got it all.

              Every season has it's own charm. Autumn often brings a sadness, time for goodbyes, time for endings. But it also brings the hope of new life. Death is not the end, but a beginning of something else.

              I can trust my garden. It is always here waiting for me. It greets me through my life - "go, see the world, then come back and enjoy what you have here", "come, stay, wrap yourself in colours and fragrance". My garden, my sanctuary. Charming in its untidyness, never a garden for the magazines, always a garden for my life.

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Photos: my garden this morning.