Rather Impatiently Awaiting Snowdrops

Snowdrop with fish-shaped green markings

I know it’s not going to be long till they’re here. I’ve seen the advanced guard, including some in Manchester City Centre yesterday, scattered in amongst the earliest crocuses. Their white tips were still sheathed in greenery, but I’d know them anywhere. 

Down south, I don’t mind betting that the snowdrops have long been out, assuming you count a week or so as ‘long’ (any flower stalker worth his or her salt knows that a week can make a big difference when it comes to catching flowers in their prime).

Still, I confess to being impatient. I’ve seen the odd clump in flower at Bodnant Gardens and Harlow Carr a couple of weeks ago, but everyone knows that snowdrops are best in huge swathes, carpeting the landscape.

I know some of my most loyal readers will sigh and tolerantly remind me that I’m one of the lucky ones – their bulbs will be buried under mounds of snow for longer than they care to remember. Snowdrops might not even grow where they’re from.

So to fill any snowdrop dearth you may be experiencing – be it brief, more lengthy or permanent – here are my earlier posts on visits to some of England’s finest snowdrop gardens: Rode Hall, Painswick Rococo Garden, and Colesbourne Park.

If you’ve been wondering, the snowdrop in the picture is one of my favourites, Galanthus ‘John Gray’. A gardener at Rode Hall once took the time to show me how, by gently opening the outer petals, you can reveal green markings in the shape of a fish. I’m passing his message along.

Please feel free to add a link to your favourite snowdrop posts in the comments below. I’m keen to enjoy snowdrops any way I can until the real ones come along.

 

48 Replies to “Rather Impatiently Awaiting Snowdrops”

  1. If you happen to see Six on Saturday, I posted my FIRST picture of snowdrops (almost). They are not Galanthus, but are instead Leucojum. Everyone has been showing off their galanthus, and I had nothing to show, until these Leucojum bloomed. I did not even know they were there.

    1. Hi Tony – I rescued this comment from my spam folder. Glad some snowdrops appeared to help you overcome your personal drought. I looked for your Six on Saturday post, but could not find it.

  2. I looked back through those other blogs and had such a good time! What lovely places — and what an uplifting diversion from my own snow-drops, which are cold and require shoveling (still pretty, though). I was most impressed by the gardeners who placed the little mirrors under the snowdrops, and I couldn’t help thinking that the snowdrops enjoyed admiring themselves!

    1. The mirrors were a nice touch. It’s fortunate that snowdrops don’t suffer wild hair day angst. The mirror might not be such a blessing if your petals were all askew and you cared a fig about it.

      1. Thank you for the laugh! You are very right. Imagine those demure little wisps of white having wild hair day angst…me, on the other hand…well, just call me Medusa.

        1. I remember your mentioning you could be a little… untamed shall we say? Perhaps if the snowdrops were like us they’d smile at the sheer entertainment value of their locks.

  3. Such pretty, pretty blossoms–they look innocent, a nice symbol of a new year. Sadly, I’m among the many who won’t see any flowers for months yet! Keep sharing yours!

  4. My neighbour has dozens flowering under her apple trees and it’s so pretty from my window, and the leaves are so glossy and dark… and I wonder what shes got that I haven’t… (I suspect I answer my own question with the old apple trees!)

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