Absolutely Autumn.

Autumn has definitely arrived at my terrasse.
The last blossoms of the summer are fighting for their existence in yellow, orange and red.

This spring I spread nasturtium seeds in pots and pans wherever I saw brown soil. I fear that snails and caterpillars might eat the most, but oh joy, the power of the seed won the race.

My mother would always use the last summer months first removing the blossoms, they are edible, to lure the plants producing  more flowers, and later collecting seeds for next year's flower feast.    I feel so close to her, going through the same procedures. 

  
Begonias are fighting for their lives. The first night frost will mean the end of them. I will as always bring them in security, in our basement,  and try keeping them alive till next spring.
 

I have collected small seeds from the pansies since August. They have been a true blessing. Blooming since April.

My dahlias are the greatest challenge. They either dry or rot indoors. This time I have found a garden expert allied. By following her advices I once more will give them a chance. It's to sad just to let them die. They are grandmother  flowers and so deserve to live. "The spring begins in the autumn", Karel Capek said. I'm so looking forwards to the fruits of my work. Have a wonderful Ruby Tuesday.

 
Photo and poem © 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher


http://rubytuesdaytoo.blogspot.com.au

Early Spring Fleemarket

Some way Ukraine has become the country people in this region of Norway consider their responsibility. Several organizations and private persons gather money for our starving, freezing, poor neighbors. Nobody can help all, everybody can help one.  Fleemarkets are a poplar way of raising money.

mSerina and I went to a fleemarket this Saturday on a nearby island, Bokn. People there are famous for their collective spirit. They are mostly fishermen, oil rig workers or farmers, that means they are used to take responsibility for their neighbors in more than one way.

We are in between seasons. Ice in the salt sea, and flowers in the sunny hillsides.

There should be some red on the roofs, but I doubt you can spot them. I used my iPone cam on this trip.Three islands with bridges and two deep under water tunnels ( about 300 meeter below water) are  connecting our town southwards.

Houses for fisher boats and tourists by the shore.
  

Old, weatherbeaten roof.

Ancient civilization, a garden with an old pavilion, orchard and the first snowdrops.

 

 Serina resting after the "gold rush" .

 

The apex of the day, meeting the first snow drops of the year .

Home again displaying the catch of the day. A red latern, a vase, six trolls, a dozen books, Kosta Boda crystal, Pilgrim jewelry and other handy things for the home. Thank God; for the first meeting with the spring. 
 
Photo  © 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher

Songs my Mother taught me # 4

The more I reflect I see how influenced I am by the many little details my mother taught me, nor by preaching, but by doing.
Nowadays we can buy fresh flowers imported from all over the world 12 months a year. When I grew up most store flowers were grown in Norwegian greenhouses. January was a rather naked month, the Christmas decorations were boxed away and outdoors snow and naked trees as long as the eye could see.
"Now I go outdoors and fetch the spring indoors," my Mom would say, wading in the snow towards the Forsythia shrubs.
Then, as a yearly, smiling refrain; " the only specie to blossom on a naked twig."  
January first is the day I fight the frost to harvest some Forsythia twigs for me and my friends.A week after the first buds and a few blossoms sprung.
I have spring in my kitchen!

Photo and poem © 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher

Ruby Spring Once More

Spring once more.
Spring in our garden, even if snow was 
blowing in from north yesterday.

Tulips in abundance, joy upon joy.

The pink tulip siblings flocking together in one corner.

The red, creeping rhododendrons are also springing out. I love them, they can withstand most; cold, wind, sour soil. They blossom as were they to the manor born. 

For more interesting Ruby Tuesdays

Magical Mystery Teacher is hosting Ruby Tuesday 2 together with Gemma Wiseman

Books, Bread and Roses

I've bought myself presents for this Christmas. Really, I so deserved them.. Books are written by authors John Cowart and Barbara White. Cowart is writing about almost any theme under the sun, and he does it well. His rock is his Christian belief, not that of a Sunday Christian, but the real thing, that of a whole person devoted to God through sun and rain, mud and silk. I love him.

I've actually set up my own shop this autumn, a Norwegian edition of Etsy, selling old goods,- using the money to buy new old treasures. Like this old bowl hand painted in farmer's rose pattern. They are rare to come by, and I love mine.

The saying "bread and roses" goes way behind. I'm among those women, who buy flowers, when buying groceries.
The Christmas decorations are well tucked away in the attic. Now we are longing for brighter days to come. I need to see spring indoors, even if the storm is howling outside.

I just today found this poem by James Oppenheim. It has kind of a jubilee,being written in 1912. I never knew its origin before I Googled "bread and roses" for this post. A textile strike in Laurence, Massachusetts took place from January till March 1912 with mainly female employees.

As we come marching, marching in the beauty of the day,

A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,

Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,

For the people hear us singing: "Bread and roses! Bread and roses!"

As we come marching, marching, we battle too for men,

For they are women's children, and we mother them again.

Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;

Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses!

As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead

Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread.

Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.

Yes, it is bread we fight for -- but we fight for roses, too!

As we come marching, marching, we bring the greater days.

The rising of the women means the rising of the race.

No more the drudge and idler -- ten that toil where one reposes,

But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses! Bread and roses!

Magical Mystery Teacher is hosting Ruby Tuesday 2
You'll be amazed what wonderful ruby themes and writings you'll find there.
She's co-hosted by Gemma Wiseman
a clever wisewoman.



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