In previous discussions on How to Live in Denmark, I’ve touched upon “The Danish Year.” This ongoing cycle of seasonal events—while not official holidays—is deeply woven into the fabric of Danish life. In 2025, I aim to delve deeper through a monthly podcast series, exploring these aspects and reflecting on Denmark’s past and future trajectory.
As the long Danish winter gradually recedes, citizens of Denmark turn their attention to the joy of gardening, a cherished ritual that signifies the arrival of spring.
By early April, it’s time to plant rhubarb, parsnips, and cabbage. With the frost fading away by late April, one can safely sow beets, chives, and parsley—all staples in traditional Danish cuisine.
Come May, the ambitious gardener might venture to plant tomatoes, a gamble that depends heavily on the weather—an ever-present variable in Denmark. One year, our hopes for a bountiful harvest turned to disappointment as we were left with a crop of unripe green tomatoes in September.
The growing season is brief in Denmark, meaning missed planting deadlines can leave a gardener high and dry. Even when the plantings do succeed, the expenses at local garden centers often far exceed what one would spend on fresh produce from nearby markets.
Names that include “gaard”
This enduring passion for gardening speaks to Danes’ deep connection with the earth. Denmark’s industrialization came late, surfacing only in the late 19th century, and when it did, it embraced cooperative agricultural practices focused primarily on exports. Today, Denmark remains renowned worldwide for its exceptional butter and bacon.
Moreover, many Danes carry a piece of this agricultural legacy in their surnames. The Danish word “gaard,” meaning farm, appears in the names of notable figures like jewelry designer Ole Lynggaard, golfer Nicolai Højgaard, and politician Pia Kjærsgaard, echoing their familial ties to the land.
This affinity for nature fuels the Danish propensity to engage in discussions about the weather—each rain or gust of wind a reminder of seasons gone by. Many can recall with remarkable clarity the rainfall of April 2014 or the winds that swept through in the summer of 2006.
Colony Gardens
For those residing in suburban homes, ample space allows for gardening pursuits. However, urban dwellers often find solace in “colony gardens.”
A colony garden in Copenhagen Northwest
These charming patches are designated within cities or their outskirts, offering urban residents a slice of green. While owners typically erect modest wooden homes on their plots—allowing summer use only as electricity and water are shut off during winter—the atmosphere is inviting. Inside, you’ll find mismatched plates, well-loved chairs adorned in cheerful fabrics, a few board games for rainy days, and, of course, a Danish flag poised to fly for holidays. Privacy is a must, with hedges encircling most of these gardens.
The Unity Garden
Colony gardens are managed by associations that encourage neighborly camaraderie—though there’s an unspoken understanding to maintain a respectful distance. To obtain a colony garden, one must either purchase an existing plot or join a long waiting list, a barrier that often sidelines a significant portion of Denmark’s non-ethnic residents.
In an effort to bridge this gap, my diverse Copenhagen neighborhood initiated a project to create a Unity Garden on underutilized land near the railway tracks. This space was divided to welcome both Danish-born residents and newcomers, fostering collaboration, cultural exchange, and summer picnics.
An Evening Stroll
Last summer, while taking an evening stroll, I passed by the picnic tables of the Unity Garden. All seemed to be bustling with Danish community members. The gardens boasting Danish names flourished vibrantly, while many plots belonging to non-Danes lay abandoned, overrun with weeds.
This raised a question: Perhaps those from different backgrounds were less inclined to dig in the dirt for a weekend meal that could be acquired more easily from a nearby supermarket. After all, for individuals hailing from countries where farming was borne out of necessity, spending weekends toiling in the earth may not hold the same allure. In Denmark, this type of gardening is often considered a cherished pastime.
Diversity and inclusion manifest in myriad ways, and it’s essential to recognize that not every individual derives joy from the same activities.
“Pear Danish”
Colony gardens can be playfully dubbed Pear Danish, a term that reflects quintessential Danish culture. Alongside features like the beloved rye bread—often referred to as the thing Danes miss most when abroad—these elements of life form a tapestry that many Danish people hold dear.
People can also be Pear Danish
Interestingly, Danes sometimes refer to themselves as Pear Danish—not in relation to the fruit or as a pair, but rather as an expression of being “very” something. Thus, one might describe a meal as pear delicious or a task as light bulb—very easy.
To be considered Pear Danish means to be deeply immersed in Danish culture, almost to the exclusion of external influences. But it’s a label I wouldn’t apply to my own experience, despite my many years living in Denmark.
And perhaps it’s a sentiment shared by those neglectful gardeners who signed up for those colony gardens near the railway tracks—now left to their own devices. While some Danish traditions, such as cake breaks and long summer holidays, are wholeheartedly embraced by newcomers, others remain less accessible.
