Spring Arrives Fast on our Norwegian Farm — and Everything Wakes Up at Once | S1 EP2

The first real spring day always feels a little unreal here.

One week the land is quiet under snow, and the next you’re standing outside in double digit temperatures, noticing details you forgot existed: the smell of wet earth, the light changing, the soundscape returning. After months of slow days, spring doesn’t arrive gently—it arrives like a switch.

The rhubarb is already pushing up, stubborn as always. Willow leaves are just starting to come in. And even though the garden still looks like it’s barely awake, the landscape is already offering food if you know what to look for.

🏔️Watch the episode here: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Mwplyf7pA4

What this episode shows of spring on a Norwegian farm

This episode is about that early spring acceleration—the moment where everything starts growing, the task list doubles overnight, and you have to choose what gets your attention first.

In the video you’ll see:

• the first signs of spring and how fast they turn into pressure

• foraging wild greens before the garden is properly running

• why the “fun” outdoor tasks compete with the dusty barn work

• how we’re preparing to raise our first chickens

• and what realistic progress looks like without machinery or hired help

Foraging is the first spring harvest on a Norwegian farm

Even now, when the beds still look empty, it’s easy to fill a bowl with greens in minutes—if you know what you’re looking at.

One of the first wild edibles is something most people know from their own gardens: ground elder. On many Norwegian farms it was intentionally planted in the past because it shows up immediately after the snow disappears—one of the first real sources of vitamins after winter.

The trick is picking the youngest leaves—the ones that are lighter in color. They’re tender, perfect for frying. The older leaves get darker and more bitter.

Nettles are coming in too, and fireweed in that early stage where it still feels soft and mild.

Two minutes of picking and you can turn it into a salad with vinegar and honey, a bit of lemon… or just throw it into whatever you’re frying.

This is spring on a Norwegian farm in its simplest form: the land offering something back before you’ve even “started” the season.

Spring makes you want to do everything outside… even when you shouldn’t

As soon as the good weather arrives, it becomes dangerously easy to lose yourself in all the fun outdoor tasks.

Especially when the thing you actually need to do means spending the sunny days inside the barn—dust, old boards, awkward repairs, and the kind of work that doesn’t look satisfying until months later.

This is one of the recurring struggles for us: spring is short, bright, and loud with possibility… but the barn still decides the pace.

And that is the real rhythm of spring on a Norwegian farm: the season pulls you outward, while your infrastructure pulls you inward.

The self-sufficiency dream looks great… until you live it

Self-sufficiency has become this modern ideal. In my bubble it’s everywhere: log cabins, overflowing gardens, fireplaces, and the idea of leaving the system behind.

And I understand why. Who wouldn’t want to step away when everything feels rigged?

But there’s something I’ve learned the more we try to build this life: humans never existed outside systems. We were always connected—by community, trade, shared labor, shared seasons.

There were never truly self-sufficient hermits. Going down that path alone is mostly signing up for an endless wave of labor.

That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t become less dependent. Quite the opposite. I wish for a world where fewer people rely on the moods of large companies.

But maybe the better goal isn’t the full off-grid fantasy—maybe it’s taking back independence one step at a time.

Why chickens are our first real step into producing food

At some point you have to stop “preparing” and actually start producing.

We debated which animals to start with. Ducks seemed the most fun. Rabbits would probably give the most meat. But both duck eggs and rabbit meat are harder to sell if you end up with a surplus.

So chickens were the logical choice.

But with predators around and two hungry dogs, chickens don’t just arrive. They require systems first: fencing, gates, gaps sealed, and a yard that’s actually secure.

And once spring hits and the days get long, the pressure becomes very real—because you can feel how quickly the season will move without you.

Progress is slower than you think (and that’s normal)

Building a chicken yard without machinery sounds like a weekend project.

In reality, it can take weeks.

The only way not to feel bad about slow progress is to set realistic goals. For us, that’s been two bigger projects per year—because everything else happens in between. Drainage issues. Storm damage. Roof screws. Repairs you didn’t plan for.

But if the goals are moderate enough, you can still finish what you set out to do.

And the moment the gates finally go in place… it feels like oxygen.

The long days return—and then Norway charges its fee

The best part of spring moving into early summer is the light. The sun keeps climbing higher and higher into the evening until you forget what “night” even means.

It’s 9:30 pm and the sun is still standing high. Everything goes golden for hours. The animals seem to stretch the day too—like they’re trying to use every minute.

But of course, Norway charges its seasonal fee:

midges, mosquitoes, biting flies… and then the horse flies.

No wind? Good luck.

Still, those evenings are worth it: curlew and snipe flying low, loon calling, roe deer shouting from the forest, and late walks that feel like the whole landscape is awake with you.