In this solo episode of the How to Live in Denmark podcast, host Kay Xander Mellish uses the month of April as a lens to explore Danish gardening traditions, the historical roots of farming in Denmark, and how these practices intersect with cultural identity and inclusion. He outlines the short Danish growing season, listing the vegetables that can be planted in early and late April and noting the economic trade‑off between buying garden produce versus supermarket items. Mellish then explains Denmark’s late industrialisation and the deep cultural resonance of the family farm (gård), showing how many Danes retain farm names in their surnames. He describes urban “colony gardens” – small, seasonal garden plots managed by associations – and highlights the social rules, scarcity, and the fact that only a tiny fraction of non‑ethnic Danes have access to them. An anecdote about a “unity garden” project illustrates attempts to bridge cultural divides, but also reveals that the non‑Danish plots often remain neglected. The episode introduces the Danish term “pærdansk” (literally “very Danish”) to discuss cultural markers such as rye bread (rødbrød), hygge, cake breaks, and the idea that one can be culturally Danish without being ethnically Danish. Mellish reflects on the limits of diversity and inclusion when activities like gardening are not universally appealing. The podcast closes with calls to follow him on LinkedIn, access transcripts, and book speaking engagements.
Chapters
Hello and welcome to the How to Live in Denmark podcast. I'm Kay Xander Mellish. I've referred to the Danish Year before on How to Live in Denmark. It's a series of events that are simply expected to happen every year in Denmark, even if they aren't formal holidays. This year, I'm going to try to do a podcast every month about aspects of the Danish Year and how they fit into the overall context of where Denmark is coming from, And where it's going. April. As the long Danish winter finally draws to an end, it's time for Danes to start planting their gardens. Now, in early April, it's rhubarb, parsnips, cabbage. After the risk of frost is gone in late April, you can put down some beets and chives. And parsley. All good traditional Danish food. By May you can try with the tomatoes, which may or may not ripen depending on whether or not you get a warm sunny summer. Always a roll of the dice in Denmark. One year we ended up with hard green tomatoes in September. The growing season in Denmark is short. If you miss the planting deadlines, you're probably out of luck. And even if you're in luck, the amount you spend at the garden center will far outstrip the amount it would take you to buy the same foods at the corner market. But Danes love to garden. They love to touch the earth. Denmark industrialized fairly late compared to the rest of Europe. Really not until the late 19th century, and even then it focused on cooperative agriculture for export. Denmark is still known around the world for its butter and bacon. The idea of the farm goes deep into the Danish soul. Many Danes still carry the name of their family farm in the name they use today. The Danish word for farm is gård, spelled G A A R D. So the names of jewelry designer Ole Lundegaard, or golfer Nicolaj Højgaard, or politician Pia Kjærsgaard all reference what was once the family farm, the gård. Danes love nature, which is why weather is always an appropriate topic of conversation. They're also very good at historical weather. They'll tell you that the rains this April are just like the rains of April 2014. Or that we haven't seen this type of wind since the summer of 2006. If you live in Denmark with a house in the suburbs with land around it— parcel houses, they're often called— you have a lot of room for gardening. But people who live in apartments often have what is called colony gardens. Colony gardens are patches of land set aside in the cities and then divided up for urban residents to have a garden. They usually build a little house on the plot as well, although you're only allowed to live there during the summer. During the winter, the electricity and the water usually get switched off. The houses are generally wooden, small, cramped, and a little thrown together. In the tiny kitchen, there are often chipped plates and glasses. Out in the main room, old chairs with cushions in a grandmotherly fabric, a few board games ready for rainy days. Out front there is a flagpole and a big Danish flag on holidays. Always, always, the colony gardens are surrounded by a hedge for privacy. Colony gardens are run by an association, so you're supposed to be friends with your neighbor colony gardens, but keep them at a distance. Good fences make for good neighbors and all that. Getting a colony garden requires either buying one or getting on a long, long list to get one, which means that very few of the 15% of the residents of Denmark who are not ethnic Danish have colony gardens. As I mentioned in an earlier podcast, the list of residents tends to look like the 1957 Copenhagen phone book. In my Copenhagen neighborhood, which is very diverse, there was an initiative to change this a few years ago. A little bit of land was freed up by the railroad tracks, and the idea was to create a unity garden. Half of the land was set off for people who were not born in Denmark, and half was set off for people who were. The idea was to meet up, work together, exchange knowledge, have summer picnics, and meet across cultures. Last summer, I walked past on an evening stroll. The people around the picnic table all appeared to be Danish. Walking along the gardens, The ones with Danish names on signposts were flourishing, full of flowers and fall squash, while most of the others were abandoned, full of weeds and thorns. Maybe the non-Danes did not want to spend their summer evenings and weekends scrabbling in the dirt for food that you could buy much cheaper in the supermarket down the street. If you come from a poor country where your parents had to garden out of desperation, Or where city people look down on farmers, you might not want to spend your weekend play farming at your garden, getting down on your hands and knees in the mud, which is one of the Dane's greatest pleasures. Diversity and inclusion does not mean that everybody enjoys the same activities. Colony gardens could fairly be called padansk, which translates directly to pair Danish. These are things that are thoroughly, unmistakably Danish. Rødbrød, or the distinctive Danish rye bread, is another thing that is pærdansk. It's the thing that Danes miss most when they travel abroad. Topped with fried fish or liver paste or sliced eggs for lunch, it's one of those traditional foods that, yeah, people still do actually eat. People can also call themselves pærdansk. It has nothing to do with pears, the fruit, or pairs in the sense of couples. Pær in this context means very. You could also say that something is pær nem, very easy, or pær lækker, very tasty. This can apply to either a meal or a person. To be pær Danish, you don't necessarily have to be ethnic Danish, but you have to be thoroughly soaked in all aspects of Danish culture. Pretty much to the exclusion of any other culture. That's not me, even after many years of living in Denmark. And it's apparently not those neglectful gardeners who signed up for those tiny colony gardens down by the railroad tracks, the gardens that now lie abandoned. Some Danish traditions, like cake breaks and hygge and long summer holidays, are adopted and appreciated by newcomers. And some are not. And that's the How to Live in Denmark podcast for this week. Follow me, Kay Xander Mellish, on LinkedIn, where I post a lot about Denmark and Danish working culture, or find all of our transcripts at howtoliveindenmark.com. You can also book me, Kay Xander Mellish, for a speech or workshop to your group or organization. At events.howtoliveindenmark.com. See you next time.
