My First Summer in Norway
The transition from spring to summer was seamless, it was difficult to tell when one season stopped and the other began. The parade of flowers and aromas from spring extended well into June and July, each week a new flower taking the spotlight on the trees and bushes. The days quickly became long and bright, I could scarcely remember a time without the neon-colored glow of the midnight sun. I spent a good portion of my summer hiking, biking, or walking every day and was so enraptured by the moment that I didn't take quite as many photos as I would have liked.
Endless Summer Hours
I have mentioned it before, but the midnight sun is by far the most notable aspect of summer. The sun never really sets, and it was always light outside. The late evenings were difficult, it was hard to wind down because the skies would explode into the most richly colorful sunsets I have ever seen, especially after rainy or cloudy days. It was impossible to accurately capture the vibrancy of the colors in my photos, so I'll do my best to describe it.
Around 9 pm the skies would start to turn creamy shades of peach, lilac, rose, and blue as the sun began to taunt us with a descent toward the horizon. The colors and textures would morph into various shapes, like the ragged peaks of an ocean wave or swirls of whipped cream. At around 10 or 11 pm, just when I should really be settling in for the evening, the skies would light up like a neon sign. Beams and patterns of bright tangerine and magenta filled the havens and radiated off of every bright surface in the city.
It was impossible to not marvel at the phenomenon and I often felt exhausted in the mornings having stayed up late curled up on the couch by the window gazing out at the clouds for hours, unable to tear myself away from the ever-changing canvas of shapes and colors. My sense of time was thrown off more in summer than in winter, it was always much later than it looked outside and the bright morning sun rays would try to claw their way through the blinds by 3 or 4 am.
A New Perspectice on Heat
Like much of the planet this year, Norway suffered some unusually high heat for the area. People often commented on how hot it was when the heat pushed up around 30C (86F), but it didn't put too much of a damper on their summer revelry. Even still, there were several weeks when it would drop around 10C (50F) on overcast days, but overall it typically stayed around 15C (60F) for most of the summer.
July and August were much cooler than I was expecting, a nice change of pace. They brought quite a bit of humidity and density of life. The fragrant flowers began to fade away as the plants matured, and the atmosphere was replaced with deep, heavy energy. Nature was bursting from every corner, competing fiercely for the fleeting sunlight and warmth. It felt like a heavy blanket of life enveloping your senses. You could smell the grass, the earth, and the sea all at once throughout the hills.
The Worst Wildlife in Norway
There are two genuinely horrible creatures that live in Norway and were particularly abundant in summer – seagulls and flies. Mosquitos come in at a close 3rd, but that's pretty ubiquitous around the world.
For a lack of any eloquent way to state this, seagulls are just assholes. They have a horrible shrieking cry that will startle you at any hour of the day or night, especially in flocks. They are ravenous thieves that will steal food from you even while it's in your hand, they poop everywhere all the time, and they are extremely protective of their babies during the evening feeding hours. We were unlucky enough one evening to be attacked on our way home after unknowingly entering a feeding area for youngsters. The problem was that there were multiple feeding spots lined up along all the paths back into our neighborhood. Every time we tried to take a new path, we heard the pitiful mews of the babies cry out followed by a series of parental shrieks, and then the watch guards began to dive-bomb us. About an hour later, navigating the circumference of the neighborhood, we finally made it home.
The only thing more unbearable than the seagulls were the flies. They infested the beautiful mountains where I longed to be every free hour of my day, and made it unbearable to even go for a short walk. They would dive-bomb your eyeballs, try to fly up your nose, ears, literally any unguarded orifice or exposed space of skin was a target. You couldn't even enjoy a jog or bike ride because somehow they would catch up to you. I have ever experienced anything like this, and I don’t know how I shall cope in the future.
Alas, summer was very short and by August you could feel fall was on its way again. Daylight began to return to normal hours, the temperatures evened out to a steady and comfortable 10-15C (50-60F), and the heavy weight of summer life began to lift. A few eager trees began to change colors and wild crops turned ripe for harvest. This leads me to my favorite part of the season.
Berry picking
I adopted an unexpected hobby over the summer. Before coming here, I had read that foraging, and in particular “berry-picking”, was a common hobby for Norwegians. After the aromatic spring that we had, I quickly understood the appeal. There were edible berries everywhere. When walking around in my neighborhood I noticed that most houses have at least one of these berry bushes for fences – currants, gooseberries, juneberries, or raspberries. Currants by far were the most popular since they grow densely and make for a lovely shrub fence. When the bright red berries emerge, it looks very festive.
The mountains were home to blueberries, strawberries, lingonberries, and the most coveted jewels of all; cloud berries. On many of my summer hikes, I was able to freely scoop up handfuls of wild blueberries in an abundance. These were bog blueberries that grow close to the ground in marshy environments, which made up the majority of where I went during orienteering. I cannot overstate how plentiful they were, it was like walking on a carpet of blueberries for miles at a time.
It was fun to develop an ability to recognize berry bushes at a distance and learn when each would become ripe for picking. One particular treasure I found was in a field along one of my typical walking paths. The field has a mix of fireweed, roses, rhododendrons, and raspberries growing closely together. The raspberries I picked had a soft, flowery taste that I suspect may have been from pollinating with the nearby flowers. They were scrumptious!
Beyond getting handfuls of tasty berries to eat, the experience of berry-picking itself was richly rewarding. First, foraging puts you directly in touch with nature. I was stung by stinging nettle, had spiders scamper over me, got scratched by rose thorns, and had red-stained fingers by the time I got home. I also discovered I had accidentally kidnapped tiny snails that had been hiding in the leaves while washing the berries. It was exciting watching the berries change shape, size, and texture over the weeks, and began to learn which ones would taste the best by the way they looked or felt when I touched them. I think this kind of experience should be more encouraged with all types of food, so I am motivated to continue learning more.
