swedish wild flower diary - july 2012

This is the unexpected new arrival that greeted me when I arrived at the stuga in E. Jämtland on 12th July, growing on the "lawn" just beyond the bro. It is Lychnis viscaria L. (syn. Viscaria vulgaris Bernh., Tjärblomster, Sticky Catchfly), which I'd seen before down by the river Indal, but not up here. Details below of the inflorescence and of the sticky patch on the stem, along with some unfortunate insects.

Of course, there were also some old favourites to greet:

Coeloglossum viride (L.) (Grönkulla, Frog Orchid), bigger and better than ever, with Fiat 500 in the background. Close-up below.





Above and below, Platanthera bifolia (L.) (Nattviol, Lesser Butterfly-orchid).





Lysimachia thyrsiflora (Topplösa, Tufted Loosestrife), growing below cliffs at the edge of Fångsjön, E. of Strömsund, where we'd gone to see the rock paintings. There was a sign in central Strömsund pointing the way to this atttraction, but it was quite a long road that then turned into a long forest track, the sort of unmetalled track for which our bright yellow Fiat 500 proved singularly ill-adapted. When we eventually parked up I was so excited to see Trifolium spadiceum (Brunklöver) that I forgot to take a picture of it. From there we walked for half a mile through woodland to the top of the cliffs, alternately thrilled and scared by the thought of meeting a bear, and I slid down a steep path to the foot of the cliffs to take a look at the blurry 3,000-year-old red paintings. (Strömsund Kommun, a vast unpopulated region, has more European Brown Bears than anywhere else in Europe, but they're shy of humans.)

Reindeer, Fångsjön.

Back in Strömsund, I photographed this pretty vetch at the foot of a garden fence. At first I refused to believe that it was just plain old Vicia cracca L. (Kråkvicker, Tufted Vetch). Nevertheless, that seems to be what it is (standard limb as long or longer than claw, calyx not assymetrical), though the appearance of the flowers is untypically eye-catching. Pale wings are generally more typical of V. villosa. (Of course even typical Tufted Vetch doesn't really deserve to be written off as "plain old".)

A fairly stunning water-meadow of Polemonium caeruleum L. (Blågull, Jacob's-ladder), seen from the main road at Muråsen, just south of Strömsund.

Also, in the same meadow, Galeopsis speciosa Mill. (Hampdån, Large-flowered Hemp-nettle).



Leucanthemum vulgare Lam. (Prästkrage, Oxeye Daisy) in evening sun, in lay-by south of Skyttmon.

Filipendula ulmaria L. (Älggräs, Meadowsweet), taken outside of Ragunda Gamla K:a on my last day in Jämtland, 18th July, just after enjoying an evening concert in the tiny church. It's a somewhat counter-intuitive observation that certain common species, such as Meadowsweet and Rosebay Willowherb, come into bloom earlier here than in southern England, some 500 miles further south. Explanations for why this happens fall into two basic groups. 1. Reasons why, in spite of the higher latitude, flowering might nevertheless be triggered earlier; perhaps a more reliable summer, a continental climate, longer hours of daylight. 2. The observation that, as the species here fill subtly different ecological niches from their English cousins,  this could selectively favour early flowerers. Later ones might be hampered by a decline in insect pollinators and the need to ripen fruit before the early onset of autumn. Generally the flowering season in East Jämtland strikes me as more compressed; it is brief and brilliant, there are less pests to contend with but every flower needs to get on with it. The flowers of May June July and August (in English terms) jostle together in this single month of July.

At the concert the performers were Sanna Nordlander (voice) and Klas Norberg (voice, piano, guitar). There was no programme, but I scribbled down the songs that I could remember:

"A Whole New World" (from Disney's The Lion King) - at least, that was the melody. The Swedish lyrics didn't seem to be a translation.

"Let this be our prayer" (in English and Italian, as sung by Celine Dion and Andrea Bocelli)

A song about Ragunda Lake and how much the inhabitants loved it (before it was accidentally drained by Vild-Hussen on 6th-7th June 1796).

"Ellinor dansa" and "Rosa på bal", two Evert Taube songs.

A song from Phantom of the Opera.

A song about a peasant who tried to shoot a horse but the horse survives.

"Walking in Memphis", the Marc Cohn song (1991) later covered by Cher (1995).

"You raise me up", written by Rolf Løvland and Brendan Graham, originally a 2002 hit (for Secret Garden with vocals by Brian Kennedy) in Norway and Ireland, subsequently an international standard covered by Josh Groban and tons of other people.

"Fattig Bonddräng", popular song from 1971 with music by Georg Riedel and words by Astrid Lindgren.

"Suspicious Minds", the Elvis Presley classic.

Hammarforsens Kraftverk, Hammarstrand (from Ragunda Gamla Kyrka).

Evert Taube, Calle Schewens Vals / Calle Schewen's Waltz

Calle Schewens Vals / Calle Schewen's Waltz

1.

I Roslagens famn på den blommande ö
där vågorna klucka mot strand
och vassarna vagga och nyslaget hö
det doftar emot mig ibland,
där sitter jag uti bersån på en bänk
och tittar på tärnor och mås
som störta mot fjärden i glitter och stänk
på jakt efter födan gunås.

         G              (F#)G C              G
On a flowering island in Roslagen’s bay,
           G                 C6             G
where wavelets are lapping the shore,
            G                        (F#)G  C             G or E7*
and the reeds are a-tremble, and newly cut hay,
       Am7            D6                  G
its fragrance surrounds me once more,
Em           A7            D                  
I sit in my arbour outside on a seat
Em                   A7            D     - D7
and gaze at the gulls in the bay,
            G                       (F#)G  C          G or E7*
and the terns as they dart in the glittering sea;
         Am7              D6            G             - G7
let’s all have some dinner, they say.

[*You have a choice here. I think I prefer the folkier G for most of the song, reserving the graceful E7 only for its penultimate line.]



2.

Själv blandar jag fredligt mitt kaffe med kron
till angenäm styrka och smak
och lyssnar till dragspelets lockande ton
som hörs från mitt stugugemak.
Jag är some en pojke, fast farfar jag är,
ja rospiggen spritter i mig!
Det blir bar värre med åren det där
med dans och med jäntornas blig.

            C        E7*               F
Meanwhile I relax with my coffee-and-Crown,
        G7                 (B)  C                   
I’m mixing it tasty and strong;
      C              E7*          F          
enticed by the distant accordion’s sound
        G7                               (B) C
that comes from my cottage salon.
       C            E7*                  F                
I‘m still just a boy, though a grandfather too;
             G7                      (B)  C
yup, the old feeling runs in my veins.
     C                                   F
It only gets worse with each year that goes by,
               G                                  C     - D7
when the dancing and glancing begins!

*or Ddim
3.

Se måsen med löjan i näbb han fick sitt!
Men jag fick en arm om min hals!
O, eviga ungdom, mitt hjärta är ditt,
Spel opp, jag vill dansa en vals!
Det doftar, det sjunger från skog och från sjö ,
I natt skall du vara min gäst!
Här dansar Calle Schewen med Roslagens mö
och solen går ner i nordväst.

(chords as verse 1)

Ahoy there, that gull's got a fish in his beak!
Well I've got an arm on my neck!
O Youth everlasting, I'm still yours to seek.
Strike up, fit a waltz to my steps!
There’s a song from the sea and a scent from the glade;
tonight I want you as my guest!
Calle Schewen is dancing with Roslagen’s maid,
             Am7                 D6              G         -B7
and the sun drops down in the north-west.


4.

Då vilar min blommande ö vid din barm
du dunkelblå, vindstilla fjärd,
Och julinattsskymningen smyger sig varm
Till sovande buskar och träd
Min älva, du dansar så lyssnande tyst
och tänker att karlar är troll
den skälver, din barnsliga hand, som jag kysst,
och valsen förklingar i moll.

       Em                        B7                Em
My flowering isle now sleeps on your breast,
        Em               D7                   G       - B7
you evening-blue, wind-becalmed sea;
       Em                                       B7          Em
and summer-night twilight comes stealing to rest
         Em           Am            Em
over slumbering bushes and trees.
       E7                               Am        Em
My elfin, you’re dancing so silent, so chaste,
       D              Em             B7
you think all us menfolk are false.
        Em                            B7                 Em
Your childish hand shrinks away from my kiss,
          Em           Am          Em      - D7
and a minor key enters the waltz.


5.

Men hej, alla vänner som gästa min ö!
Jag är både nykter och klok!
När morgonen gryr skall jag vålma mitt hö
och vittja tvåhundrade krok.
Fördöme dig, skymning, och drag nu din kos!
Det brinner i martallens topp!
Här dansar Calle Schewen med Roslagens ros,
Han dansar när solen går opp!

(chords as verse 1)

But hey, all you good friends who visit my isle,
I ’m not quite so mad as I look!
Tomorrow I’ll have my hay hung up to dry
and sift through my two hundred hooks.
It's time for you, night-time, to give up the ghost,
there’s fire in the pine's lofty top!
Calle Schewen is dancing with Roslagen’s rose,
         Am7        D6                 G
he’s dancing as sunrise comes up!




Evert Taube (1890 - 1976) is Sweden's most famous troubadour, and this is one of his best-loved songs. It was first published in the collection Ultramarin (1936). Essentially a troubadour means a singer/songwriter, though naturally the musical mode in Sweden in the 1920s is quite different from the US in the 1960s. Accordions, waltzes, tangos and polkas are the right sort of context.  Taube's delivery, like Dylan's, was almost sprechgesang - he left it to others to set his beautiful melodies free. Taube was the son of a Gothenberg (harbour) pilot, and the grandson of a ship's captain. "Taube" was a petty gentry-name; he was not working-class. He first attempted to make a career as an artist in Stockholm (c. 1906), but Taube's father, disturbed about his son's Bohemian excesses, ordered him to go to sea or get a proper job. He chose the sea, working across the world and eventually for five years in South America (mainly in Argentina on canals and irrigation works). Here he learnt the guitar (along with Spanish, French and Italian - to add to the English he'd already learned in North Shields). Back in Stockholm, where he worked as writer, journalist and illustrator, he made his first recordings  in 1918.

Calle Schewen's Waltz was a commissioned song in celebration of that gentleman, president of some sort of drinking club that Taube wanted to join - something like that, anyway. Like most reasonably well-off Stockholm clubmen, Calle Schewen had his own island on the archipelago. Older men pursuing much younger women, slightly creepily and on the whole unsuccessfully, is a common motif in Taube's songs. In this case I interpret the maid as imaginary throughout, perhaps ultimately becoming transformed into the spirit of the archipelago itself.

People say that the reason the song is so popular is its lyrical evocation of the short summer night of July. That's true, but it isn't just a matter of choice poetic expressions. The evocation depends for its effect on spacious but immaculate pacing, the seamless combination of narrative with waltz-form (episodes and all).

Live performance of Calle Schewens Vals by Peter Harryson , Skansen 2008:

The chords relate to my own rendering (below). I transposed the music from D to G. Then, because of the low notes in the fourth verse, I capo'd it up to B. I seem to have changed the melody a little, but not much.



Calle Schewen's Waltz by Michael Peverett


This is a free translation, the main aim is for it to be singable and make sense. Some details have disappeared from it: e.g. the fish is a bleak; the pine is a dwarf-pine, so its top isn't so very lofty.

"Roslagen" - refers in a general way to the northern part of the Stockholm archipelago. "Ros" means "rose" (as in the song's penultimate line), though that isn't the origin of the name. So it;s purely a coincidence that when I spent a week there in 2014 I was very struck by all the wild roses (they don't grow up in Norrland, the area of Sweden I know best).

"coffee-and-Crown"  - Crown (Kron) was a popular brand of brännvin (spiced grain vodka). Swedes still drink plenty of brännvin, but mixing it with coffee seems to have been a 1930s craze which subsequently fell out of favour.


Another English translation, from the site of the American Union of Swedish Singers.

More Evert Taube translations by me: 

Evert Taube, Rosa på bal / Rosa at the ball

Evert Taube, Sommarnatt / Summer Night

Barley Bread, Bark Bread

In English, until recently, one of the main uses of the word corn was to talk about cereals without specifying them very distinctly. You still see this usage in "Corn Exchange", "cornfield", "cornflower", etc.

Understandably enough, corn sometimes came to mean the grain-crop that it usually designated. In other words, the commonest crop in the area: wheat in south-east Britain, or oats in the north west.

Because of our dwindling agricultural awareness, these older meanings of corn are now definitely secondary, compared to the primary meaning i.e. maize, as evinced by such everyday consumer terms as sweetcorn, popcorn, corn-on-the-cob, etc. And since maize itself is now a pretty common crop in the UK,  words like "cornfield" are becoming too ambiguous to use.

One thing I only became aware of this summer is that in Sweden the word korn often means barley! It obviously confused the hell out of Paul Britten Austin when he translated Vilhelm Moberg's A History of the Swedish People.  To understand the chapter about bread, you need to substitute "barley" for "corn", most of the time. 



In England "barley-bread" is a matter for historians. It was a common enough food in the Middle Ages, but nobody now remembers anyone eating it, so there is no cult of barley bread. It's a different matter in the north of Sweden, where "korn" (i.e. barley) was, and is, a frequent ingredient in hardbreads.

Moberg explains that barley was the original cereal crop in Sweden. Then oats arrived. Oats and barley were the only crops that reliably  ripened grain in the 90-day growing period of the north.  But further south it was possible to grow rye. Crispbread in the north, and fermented ryebread in the south, remain the regional specialities. (Wheat was a latecomer, because of its dependence on heavy soils that took many centuries of cultivation to build up.

Barley reappears in one of the more alarming local foods of Jämtland, where I was a couple of weeks ago. At any local feast, fete or market you will soon find the local crowd beginning to congregate excitedly around one particular stall, usually designated by a tatty cardboard sign on which appears a single word: KAMS.  Outsiders find it difficult to recognize this as food. A plate of kams consists of thick greyish slabs of what looks like unbaked dough, accompanied by a yellowish cheesy mess. The greyish stuff - the kams proper - are flat dumplings made largely of barley flour, which are cooked in boiling water mixed with whey; the accompaniment, at least when I had it in Pålgård, was two types of "mese", a strong-tasting whey by-product, very salty and a bit sweet (more about whey products here); also a dob of messmör and a bit of butter, which I think you are supposed to spread over the surface of the dumplings so it melts. The traditional accomaniment is a glass of milk. Kams is, or was, a typical subsistence food of Jämtland-Harjedalen-Trøndelag's transhumance dairy culture. It's the kind of thing the girls would live on while minding their herds in the isolated summer pastures. 

(photo by Lena, from her blog)

*

My mother, a picky eater, disliked oat porridge (havregrynsgröt) but was fond of both barley porridge (kornmjölsgröt) and rye porridge (rågmjölsgröt).


*

When I was 15, my Swedish grandmother gave me, as a birthday present, the first two volumes of Moberg's Min Svenska Historia (1970, 1971), which had been an immediate bestseller in Sweden and was swiftly translated into English (A History of The Swedish People - 1972, 1973).

I knew who Vilhelm Moberg was, of course. His famous novels The Emigrants, Unto a Good Land, and The Last Letter Home were on the family bookshelves, though I never got round to reading them. But I did read the History, more than once. Lately I read it again, and a question that had vaguely bothered me for forty years suddenly came into focus: why hadn't my grandmother ever sent me the subsequent volumes? Once focused, it took only a minute to find out. Five days before that birthday present, Moberg had drowned himself in his local lake. He had suffered from depression for years. So far as I know he never drafted any of the projected two later volumes.

"Like all countrymen," Moberg wrote, "I have grown up eating bread as the most important part of my diet; I am accustomed to it and do not really feel I have had enough to eat unless I have had some bread with my meal." Maybe if Moberg had kept away from wheat (which he admits didn't go down as well with him as rye) he wouldn't have suffered such bad depressions. His generation didn't understand about these things.


*

Per Anders Rudling has published a useful brief critique of Moberg's History. Its limitations, as history, are indeed fairly obvious. Nevertheless, Moberg's perspective as a radicalized working-class novelist brings some features of the past into stark clarity. 

In our days a local catastrophe to the harvest in one part of the country can be offset by aid from another; but in the Middle Ages, and for centuries to come, any part of the country where the harvest had failed simply starved, abandoned by all the others. The population was sparse, roads were almost non-existent and effective means of transport lacking. To shift any significant quantities of grain from one province to another was simply impossible. Two or three sacks of corn could be loaded onto a crude ox-cart, or a bag of it slung across a horse's back - but what help was that? (Part II, Chapter 3).

The main subject of this chapter is not barley bread, but bark bread.

Harvests failed all too often, winters could be exceptionally severe and prolonged, but even in times of famine there were always trees. So bark bread was a potential fallback (along with husks, straw, reindeer moss and other lichens).  

The part actually used was the cambium, the layer of growth tissue just under the outer bark. It was ground into a flour. The preferred trees were Scots pine (the most widespread), silver birch, aspen, and wych elm. This last was the best of all, both the easiest to prepare and the most nutritious, but it is a local species in Sweden and not found very far north.  

Of course bark bread was only partly edible; cellulose and lignin cannot be digested by humans. But it also contained sugars, a little protein, and plenty of minerals. Mixed, where possible, with other flours, it might keep you alive. The last great famines in Sweden were in the 1860s. Finns were still mixing bark meal with bread flour during World War II.

studies in Deschampsia cespitosa (Tufted Hair-grass)

Tufted Hair-grass (Deschampsia cespitosa or caespitosa), one of the UK's commonest tall grasses. Also sometimes known as Tussock-grass, or Hassocks. Photos taken yesterday (Aug 7th 2012) in Swindon - these plants, obviously, are at the fruiting rather than flowering stage. 

Below: Detail of Above, showing the distinctive, more or less equidistant panicle-nodes with typically three or four branches.

In this rainiest of years, the mass of "upright" culms gets knocked down into matted (and damp-retaining)  bundles.

The large, dense tufts distinguish D. cespitosa from all other common grassland species except Tall Fescue (Festuca arundinacea), a plant that is nothing like so abundant though clearly on the increase. The tussocks of D. cespitosa are a darker green, with distinctively narrow, sharp-pointed leaves.

The upper surfaces and margins are very rough. Holding the blade between finger and thumb you can slide your hand upwards, but encounter a lot of resistance if you try and slide it downwards.

My hastily thrown-together theory is that the roughness acts to keep the blades well separated from each other, thus allowing maximum exposure to light, obviously an important factor in such a densely tufted plant.

A more mainstream (and experimentally demonstrated) explanation is that the roughness in this and other grasses is caused by high silica content, and the silica acts to deter insect herbivores. Livestock, too, generally find the grass unpalatable, though horses and rabbits will eat it if there's nothing else around.

Deschampsia, as you might guess, is named after a Frenchman, Louis Auguste Deschamps (1765-1842).  The grass does him honour but does not have any particular appropriateness to him; he was a botanist/ship's surgeon interested in the tropical plants he saw on his travels. He may have been the first European to see Rafflesia, but this is uncertain. His notebooks were impounded by the British when his ship was captured during the Napoleonic War, and I get the impression (from hasty Googling) that some material was permanently lost.

 I wonder how other people pronounce it. I go for an "English" pronunciation (dezz-champs-ia), but you might prefer a "French" one (day-shom-sia) or even a "Latin" one (dess-camps-ia). Let me know!

"Hair-grass", I'm guessing, refers to the slender branches of the panicle, which are even finer in other species of Deschampsia, such as Wavy Hair-grass (D. flexuosa). No connection with the aquarium plants known as Hairgrass, which are small Spike-rushes (Eleocharis species).

Deschampsia cespitosa has the honour of being assigned a special community in  the British Vegetation Classification system: MG9. "MG" stands for mesotrophic grassland, which more or less means neutral grassland. MG9 is characterically dampish, poorly-drained meadow and it always contains D. cespitosa, along with Yorkshire Fog (Holcus lanatus). Exactly what you can see here.