The scent of lavender in midwinter stirs the heart
The lavender gardener has been watching the weather forecast thoughtfully, wondering if the frost will arrive before the snow and how the lavenders will endure it.
With temperatures bouncing back and forth, every week has brought new surprises. A few days ago, I walked to the pond and discovered lavender emerging from beneath the snow. I expected brown stems and dried blooms left over from autumn, but instead, I found a shimmering sea of silvery green plants, releasing a scent so intoxicating that I couldn’t bring myself to leave.
I had set the whole lavender project aside, busy with forcing paperwhite bulbs and setting up the workshop. There has been plenty of wonder in those tasks alone. But this—this I couldn’t avoid. There they were, strong, fragrant, and quietly calm in the heart of winter, just as they should be: content in their stillness, turned inward, waiting. The smallest plants are now about five centimeters wide, while the largest have spread nearly to thirty. My love for lavender hit me like a shovel into fresh snow.
Lavender in winter dormancy in Mustikkarinne.
This is why I became an amateur* gardener. A couple of years ago, I walked by the pond at Mustikkarinne and wondered what might grow there. I realized the terrain was perfect for lavender—or at least it could be, with a little imagination. I began gathering lavender knowledge from around the world, attended a lavender course at the University of Michigan, and found a trial project in Finland where the grower, Riitta, later became my mentor. Lavender brought us together, and my excitement led me to search for more training. I joined an apprenticeship program in horticulture at Saaren Kartano in Mäntsälä, where I studied outdoor flower production and herb cultivation, eventually specializing in lavender.
The first lavender seedlings arrived in early April 2024. I had prepared for the pick-up trip by clearing out the back of the Berlingo and folding down the seats, but to my surprise, all six hundred tiny plants fit onto two 25x40 cm trays, which I carried home on the car’s rear shelf. That’s how the journey began—a journey filled with more trials and errors than successes. I’ve learned patience and precision, read meters of literature, and connected with lavender growers from around the world. Along the way, I’ve also learned to trust my instincts and found the courage to follow them.
This morning, when I saw bullfinches perched on the windowsill, I knew frost and snow were just around the corner. I had to make decisions about winter protection for the days ahead. My lavenders were carefully selected to match the climate—varieties that can withstand short periods of frost down to -15°C. The ground, softened by recent mild weather, still held moisture near the pond. I covered the roots of the smaller plants with snow and crossed my fingers and toes. As if nature herself was offering support, snowflakes began to fall gently as soon as I returned the shovel to the shed.
The stillness of winter strengthens both lavender and gardeners alike. Beneath the snow, new growth pulses with quiet confidence, trusting that spring is just around the corner.
Wishing you a cozy week from Mustikkarinne.
*Amateur: the ideal balance between pure intent, open mind, and the passion for a subject