Garden Love
My garden is a place where earth and sky meet in quiet harmony — with views of fjord and mountains holding the horizon.
I hope my passion and dedication to yoga and gardening can inspire others to honor the natural rhythm of connection
— with themselves, with others, and with the earth.
My garden is a place where earth and sky meet in quiet harmony — with views of fjord and mountains holding the horizon.
A space where patience, beauty and joy are cultivated side by side. It is filled with the whispers of seasons: lilacs in May, peonies in June, roses in July, apples in August, and butterflies dancing in the warmth of summer light.
Each month brings its own blessing, its own rhythm, its own reminder that life is always renewing itself. Here, abundance happens by itself. Perennials and bushes find their place, and once they do, they flourish with ease.
Lavender grounds me.
Roses remind me of beauty.
Peonies unfold love in layers of velvet.
Hydrangeas glow in blue, pink, lilac and white — each one a breath of abundance.
Apple trees carry the memory of Avalon, while butterflies are messengers of hope, returning year after year to the butterfly bush.
Sweet peas climb gently, weaving beauty and gratitude into the garden —a reminder to cherish life`s delicate joys and the connections that quietly grow around us.
The garden is also play.
Smooth round stones, soft shapes, hidden corners that invite children to explore, dream and create their own worlds.
There is joy in sharing perennials with friends, offering fresh flowers and apples as gifts, and decorating the home with what blooms here. Fresh blossoms bring not only fragrance and color — they shift the energy of a home, making it lighter, more alive, more at peace.
The seasons teach me about life itself.
Spring brings excitement — that moment when fingers itch to prepare the soil and welcome new beginnings.
Summer is fullness and celebration.
Autumn is harvest, gratitude, letting go.
Winter is rest — the quiet preparation for what is to come.
And always, the lesson of pruning: cutting back what is no longer alive, daring to trim roses and lavender so far down that it feels almost too much — only to discover that this is what allows them to grow stronger, fuller, more radiant.
Nature reminds me that letting go makes room for abundance. To garden is to listen — to the soil, to the light, to what each plant needs. Everything has its own place, its own rhythm, just like us.
The garden mirrors life:
sowing seeds in faith, allowing growth to unfold, enjoying the beauty of fleeting blossoms like apple flowers that last only a day but remain among the most exquisite gifts of spring.
This is Garden Love.
A reminder that beauty belongs here, that joy can be cultivated, and that life always offers new beginnings.
May these words and images spark reflection, insight and new thoughts —and perhaps an invitation to reach out.
