"A Garden’s First Year: Embracing the Baltic’s Seasons"

“When the winds of change blow, remember … sometimes what appears dead is simply preparing for a new season.” …. Jane Lee Logan

Every morning, my garden by the Baltic Sea offers a quiet kind of magic. It’s my sanctuary, where the sky meets the earth in a timeless dance of light, shadow, and growth. Of all its moments, autumn mornings are my favorite. As the sun rises, its golden light gently caresses the horizon, casting a warm glow over the calm waters. In those serene moments, the garden feels alive, holding its breath before the coming frost. But the story of this garden isn’t confined to autumn—it’s a tale that unfolds across all seasons.

Spring: The Awakening

The daffodils are the first to respond, their bright yellow faces peeking through the remnants of frost. Soon after, the peonies emerge, their tightly wound buds swelling with the promise of lush, fragrant blooms. Pollinators—bees, butterflies, and even the occasional adventurous beetle—begin their work, drawn to the early blossoms. I watch with awe as each new leaf unfurls, a small miracle of renewal.

Then come the apple and cherry blossoms, lighting up the garden with clouds of soft pink and white, their delicate petals drifting in the breeze like a ticker tape parade. Alongside these blooms, spring also brings new visitors to the garden. The deer pass quietly through, showing off their wobbly-legged fawns, while rabbits, dart about, often accompanied by tiny, curious kits. They nibble here and there—an apple leaf, a stray petal—leaving gentle traces of their presence. Together, the flowers and wildlife fill the garden with the vibrant energy of renewal, making spring the season of hope for the coming year.

Summer: The Season of Abundance

Summer transforms the garden into a bustling haven of energy. The Baltic’s cool breezes mix with the warmth of the sun, creating the perfect climate for growth. The apple and cherry trees at the edge of the garden becomes a focal point, its branches heavy with fruit, while the lavender sways in the gentle wind, perfuming the air.

This is the garden’s busiest time. Sunlight streams through the leaves, fueling the garden with energy. Bees flit tirelessly among the blooms, while birds dart in and out, feasting on insects or nibbling on berries. The roses are in their full glory, their velvety petals unfurling in shades of pink, filling the air with their sweet fragrance. Nearby, the coneflowers and butterfly bushes stand tall, their vibrant purple and pink petals attracting several species of butterflies.

The lilacs, though past their peak bloom, still exude a lingering sweetness that blends with the garden’s midsummer perfume. Salvia’s striking spikes of blue and purple hum with the activity of bees, adding splashes of vibrant color to the green tapestry. By midsummer, the kitchen garden is also thriving, brimming with my favorite herbs: basil, oregano, garlic, chives, thyme, mint and parsley—a testament to the season’s generosity and the harmonious interplay of flowers and foliage.

 Autumn: A Time of Reflection

As autumn approaches, the garden begins to exhale. Leaves turn amber, gold, and crimson, creating a fiery mosaic against the soft blue of the sea. The days grow shorter, and the air carries a sharpness that hints at the coming frost. This is the time of harvest—and of preparation.

I spend afternoons gathering apples for pies, apple sauce and cider. The last of the tomatoes are plucked and stewed for soups and sauces, their vines left to enrich the soil as they decompose. This is also a time when I add bulbs to the garden for spring blooms and mulch the garden in preparation for winter. The garden feels like a wise old soul in autumn, conserving its energy, preparing for the stillness of winter.

Winter: Rest and Resilience

When winter descends, the garden retreats beneath a blanket of snow. The once-busy flowerbeds lie quiet, their residents dormant, waiting. Yet, even in this stillness, life persists. The cold air, biting and crisp, is a necessity for some seeds, which require the freeze to germinate come spring.

I often walk the garden paths, now lined with frost-covered branches. There’s a beauty in the silence, a sense of resilience in the way the garden rests. The Baltic, darker and stormier in winter, mirrors the garden’s mood. But beneath the surface, roots strengthen, soil regenerates, and life readies itself for renewal.

Seasons of Balance

Living in this garden has taught me that every season has its purpose. Spring’s awakening, summer’s abundance, autumn’s preparation, and winter’s resilience form a perfect cycle. Together, they sustain not just the plants, but the delicate ecosystem they support—bees and birds, microbes and moss, all intertwined in a rhythm as ancient as the sea.

As stewards of this space, we have a role to play too. By planting native species, composting, and working with the land instead of against it, we can ensure that the garden thrives. It’s a responsibility I embrace, knowing that this patch of earth holds more than beauty—it holds the power to sustain life.

And so, the seasons continue their dance in my Baltic Garden, each one a chapter in an unending story of growth, renewal, and quiet resilience. Every morning, whether bathed in golden autumn light or blanketed by winter snow, I am reminded of nature’s wisdom and its delicate, enduring balance.