Amsterdam (ii)

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In addition to the butterfly house and three really nice greenhouses representing different biomes, Hortus Botanicus in Amsterdam also had a snug, tightly planted outdoor part, with trees and shrubs and flowers. A tiny Giant Sequoia, for example. Only a whisper, though, compared to the ones growing in their natural habitat up in the Californian mountains. Hortus Botanicus is a small botanic garden, and the forested parts of it were quite wild during my visit in 2013. But being more or less in the middle of the city, it made a really nice respite in the intense city architecture. Some green for the eyes. I liked it. Especially the butterfly house.

Photo: Hortus Botanicus in Amsterdam, the Netherlands, June 2013. Posted on Instagram April 30, 2021.

Visby (iii)

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And there are plenty of benches to sit and read on in the Visby botanic garden. For a brief moment, the sun breaks through the clouds during my visit and I spend some minutes reading the so incredibly impressive “The Unwomanly Face of War: An Oral History of Women in World War II” by Svetlana Alexievich, but then I have to leave. Colleagues await at the ferry terminal, on our way to the yearly Stora Karlsö office retreat. But I know, had I spent more time in Visby, this garden would definitely have been my favorite reading spot.

Photo: The Botanical Garden of the Bathing Friends in Visby, Sweden, September 2018. Posted on Instagram April 30, 2021.

Meise (iii)

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There were parts of the Meise botanic garden that were dedicated to seasonal displays, and in early autumn: pumpkin season. Such a beautifully arranged garden, with pumpkins of all different colors, shapes and sizes. Yes, the garden in Meise is really impressive. A great example of a space for environmental education, where both wild and cultivated plants from all over the world and examples of seasonality is communicated in the garden grounds. It is not as lush and romantic as some older gardens, like the one in Montpellier or Copenhagen, but the way in which this huge garden is put together is systematic and pedagogical, and really speaks to the researcher in me. A model for outdoor education. I like it.

Photo: Plantentuin Meise / Jardin Botanique Meise, Brussels, Belgium, September 2017. Posted on Instagram April 29, 2021.

Lyon (v)

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Botanical garden of Lyon, October 2018. There is something special about the stillness in a garden located in the middle of the city. The trees painted yellow by autumn, being reflected in the milky turquoise water of the lake. I can sense, more than hear, the bustle of the streets behind the trees – species I don’t know the names of – but here, the mist lies like a blanket over every sound. Only the hungry ducks take up any space in the soundscape. This is one of those moments out of time.

Photo: Jardin botanique du Parc de la Tête d’Or, Lyon, France, October 2018. Posted on Instagram April 28, 2021.

Hamburg (iii)

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I like how the old botanic garden in Hamburg, established in 1821, is a living space in the city. It is situated centrally, on easy walking distance from the main railway station. When walking around in the garden, and in the adjoining park, Planten un Blomen, I got the impression that this is a part of the city that is integrated in people’s everyday lives. A space for lunchtime runs, walking the dog, playing with the kids, having a stroll in deep conversation with a friend, reading on a sun-drenched bench by one of the many ponds. In addition to the more conventional botanic garden activity of exploring the wide variety of plants that grow both in the greenhouses and in the surrounding park. Admission to the greenhouses is also free (or was, at least, when I visited in 2018), which probably contributed to how well-visited they felt – children standing on the path, marveling at the magnificent ferns. A garden for the city-dweller and the whole family.

Photo: Alter Botanischer Garten Hamburg, Germany, October 2018. Posted on Instagram April 28, 2021.

Barcelona (iii)

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Speaking of tending to the wild – the Botanical Garden of Barcelona is a place to get lost. Not in the sense that it’s extensive or has a confusing structure, but because it has been planted to replicate how these ecosystems might have looked, had they evolved with much less management and care than what is necessary to maintain a scientific collection of plants. It consists of plants from areas around the globe with a Mediterranean climate. They are planted in sections representing the western and eastern Mediterranean, the Canary Islands, Australia, Chile, California and South Africa. And it is obvious that they have adopted to similar conditions, drought tolerant, seasonality, often rather fertile soils. Or, at least, plenty of space for a high diversity of plants to evolve over millennia. But also: There are so many different adaptations. And the way the garden is structured, around the winding paths that take you from section to section. You wander, come around a bend, and suddenly you’re in a completely different ecosystem. This often untamed feel of the garden works, because they focus on plants adjusted to the same climate conditions. Even if a plant comes from the other side of the world, it feels at home in the conditions that Barcelona can provide. But at the same time, the plants look different because the areas in the world with Mediterranean climates are isolated, surrounded by sea, deserts, mountains or simply a rather dramatic shift to colder and rainier climates, meaning that plants have stayed put and evolved on their own within those terrestrial islands. The Cape flora in South Africa is the most extreme of these areas, full of endemic species. This makes a display of plants from Mediterranean climates particularly interesting to wander through, and they’ve done a brilliant job with it in the Botanical Garden of Barcelona. A day spent there, getting lost among the somber greens, is both intriguing and soothing.

Photo: Jardí Botànic de Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain, October 2018. Posted on Instagram April 27, 2021.

Bergius (viii)

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Compared to other botanic gardens, like Kew in London or Meise outside of Brussels, the Bergius garden is not big. But somehow, they have still managed to divide it into several distinctly different parts, sections with such completely different characteristics. There are the flowerbeds with garden flowers, the sections representing different more or less exotic ecosystems – but also, the recreated wetland and several meadows, that are managed, but only sparingly. They look like they are allowed to grow as they will, host the plants that happen to find their way there – and the insects and birds that thrive in this half-wilderness!

Photo: Meadow in Bergius Botanic Garden in Stockholm, June 2018. Posted on Instagram April 27, 2021.

Glasgow (iv)

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As it happened, the Glasgow Botanic Gardens celebrated its 200th anniversary when I visited in 2017, and on the weekend that I was there the celebration meant hosting an orchid show in one of the greenhouses. Poor Natalia, the friend I was visiting in Glasgow. I never wanted to leave. With my camera, I went a little nuts. Or, you know. Totally. Whatever. Judge for yourself.

Photo: Glasgow Botanic Gardens, Scotland, May 2017. Posted on Instagram April 26, 2021.

Nitobe, Vancouver (ii)

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There was a short guide to the Nitobe Memorial Garden that was included in the entrance fee during my visit to Vancouver in 2012. In the guide, the symbology of the Japanese garden was explained and how different features of it might be interpreted. This particular garden could be seen as a symbolical walk through life, with childhood, adolescence, marriage, adulthood and old age. Every plant, every tree and stone and piece of lawn, was meticulously pruned and cut and placed with extreme care and thought, and I guess that was why it was such a calming place. It was as if the trees themselves got my heartbeat to slow down and my breathing to become deeper. And just then, the sun broke through the clouds and made the fresh leaves of the trees shine. Oh, it was magical.

Photo: The Nitobe Memorial Garden, Vancouver, Canada, May 2012. Posted on Instagram April 26, 2021.

Edinburgh (iv)

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I love the greenhouses in Edinburgh. They are like little universes, each created as a little, intensified piece of different places on Earth. Artificial, of course, but still. A place to marvel in. On a wall-length poster by the entrance, when I visited in 2013, the following quote was posted: “Destroying rainforest for economic gain is like burning a Renaissance painting to cook a meal (Edward Wilson)”.

Photo: Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh, Scotland, June 2013. Posted on Instagram April 26, 2021.