Wealden Times | WT181 | March 2017 | Fashion supplement inside

Garden
To a snowdrop
‘Lone flower, hemmed in with
snows and white as they
But hardier far, once more I see thee bend
Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend,
Like an unbidden guest. Though day by day,
Storms, sallying from the mountain-tops, waylay
Photo: Charlie Whigham
The rising sun, and on the plains descend;
Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend
Whose zeal outruns his promise! Blue eyed May
Spring has
Sprung
Shall soon behold this border thickly set
With bright jonquils, their odours lavishing
On the soft west-wind and his frolic peers;
Nor will I then thy modest grace forget,
Chaste Snowdrop, venturous
harbinger of Spring,
And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
Sue Whigham explores our
fascination with snowdrops
W. Wordsworth.
I
went to a talk about Sissinghurst Castle Garden a few
evenings ago and we were reminded that Vita Sackville-
West would have little pots and posies of flowers on her
desk to inspire her as she wrote about them. I’ve had a small
pot of Galanthus ‘S. Arnott’ outside my back door for a year and
brought it in about half an hour before sitting down to write,
thinking of Vita and those vases, and lo and behold, the flowers,
tightly closed for the night, have opened up fully in minutes. This
really is the way to see snowdrops and their subtle beauty – face to
face. Actually, G. ‘S. Arnott’ is an absolutely classic
snowdrop with large, textured petalled flowers and
with such a pretty scent. It wasn’t introduced until
1951 when it immediately received an Award of
Merit from the RHS. Its origins remain confused
despite taking the name of Samuel Arnott who
entitled a review he published on snowdrops in 1904
as The Fair Maids of February. Such an apt title.
Snowdrops are not native to the British Isles
and G. nivalis, the common snowdrop, which has
become widely naturalised both here and in Europe,
was first referred to in the sixteenth century. Carl
Linnaeus gave snowdrops their scientific name
in 1735 from the Greek gala meaning milk and anthos, flower.
However, it seems that they might have been planted by Norman
monks in the grounds of ecclesiastical buildings as a symbol
of purity and they are certainly often found in graveyards and
abbey ruins. Sheets and sheets of G. nivalis grow in the beech
woods at Welford Park, nr Newbury, visited just a week ago. A
period of mildish damp weather had caused them to shoot up
“ Carl Linnaeus
gave snowdrops
their scientific
name in 1735
from the Greek
gala meaning
milk and
anthos, flower
in their thousands although they were
not yet in their full glory. Welford Park
is one of the many monastic sites in the
country famous for its snowdrops and it seems
that they were an important element of church
decoration there for the feast of Candelmas.
By 1600 G. nivalis was joined by
G. plicatus
from which
so many hybrids and cultivars have been developed but it wasn’t
until the mid nineteenth century that there was much interest
in snowdrops. The snowdrop was widely used
in Victorian design as a motif so was certainly
becoming popular by then. New forms of G.
plicatus were brought back from soldiers fighting
in the Crimea in the 1850s and it is interesting
to read that Scotland is particularly good for
snowdrops as many Scottish regiments were sent
out there. The G. plicatus they brought back soon
hybridised with G. nivalis. A particularly choice
snowdrop, G. ‘Castle Green Dragon’ was found in
the grounds of Brechin Castle whose owner, Lord
Dalhousie, had strong links with the Crimea.
Snowdrops are geophytes meaning that for a
large part of their yearly life cycle there is no sign of them at all
as they exist underground. And whilst you could describe this as
their dormant period, far from it. It is all happening in that the
flower buds will form in the preceding March before flowering and
continue to develop for about eleven months. By June the flower
parts are clearly formed and then there is good root development
as the soil temperature drops and the plant prepares for
145 wealdentimes.co.uk