MEET THE SNOW QUEEN
The snowdrop spectacle is here and the wet, mild winter means it’s better than ever
FIFTY years ago it was unusual to see snowdrops before late January. Then, when the little white blooms finally appeared, hearts would leap because spring was getting closer. With today’s soggy nonwinters, snowdrops often flower a month earlier. This year has been even milder, so the season is already at its peak.
There are 19 wild snowdrop species and thousands of varieties. One — Queen Olga’s Snowdrop — flowers in October in my Lincolnshire garden. Several flower in December and in a snowdrop enthusiast’s garden, you could see the white blooms from September to March.
As winter flowers they have double value. When covering woodland floors or naturalised in a big garden, they create floral carpets; blend them with yellow aconites and the show becomes gold-plated.
Massed winter flowers like those are also a boon for early bees. They supply nectar and pollen and could be followed by spring bulbs such as crocus and snakeshead fritillaries.
Snowdrops are individually beautiful. Their whiteness is enhanced by contrasting green petal markings in varying patterns. In a tiny garden they’ll grow readily in containers. In beds or borders they need little space and obligingly disappear soon after flowering.
EASY CULTURE
THOUGH happy in almost any soil type, snowdrops prefer freedraining, humus-rich soil. They thrive in full light or gentle shade. In Britain, many flourish in deciduous woodland. They bulk up more rapidly in rich, fertile soil than in drought-prone conditions. After flowering, healthy plants self-seed. If you want your snowdrops to spread, allow the capsules to ripen and burst. But if you prefer to control numbers, remove capsules before they ripen.
Snowdrops are clump-formers. When these become congested, flowering will reduce. To prevent that, dig up mature clusters after flowering. Tease bulbs apart and select the plumpest with leaves still attached. Plant those individually, deeply enough to bury all the lower white stems.
I never feed my snowdrops. They do well enough in the wild, so why would you?
You can buy and plant snowdrops now ‘in the green’. They will also be available in autumn as dry bulbs. Either works well.
When digging in a bed, if you accidentally uproot dormant snowdrop bulbs, just shove them back into the ground.
SPOILT FOR CHOICE
NORTHERN Europe’s commonest snowdrop is Galanthus nivalis. The white flowers have three long outer tepals surrounding smaller, green-edged inner ones. There’s also a pretty double form, Flore Pleno.
There are more than 2,000 named varieties but about 20 will provide enough diversity for most. Among readily available cultivars, S. Arnott has 20cm stems and extra-large flowers. Augustus comes later, with plump flowers and broad leaves. Scharlockii has erect, rabbit-ear bracts and the outer petals of Viridapice are green-tipped.
To find out more, get to know an expert. But be warned: snowdrop enthusiasts, known as ‘galanthophiles’, have excessive zeal. If several get locked into discussions, it’s wise to scarper.
Instead, find a wood or churchyard carpeted with snowdrops and enjoy their simple beauty.