“Our snowdrop views are so inspiring”
Swathes of galanthus, aconites and crocus delight visitors to this enchanting country plot in late winter. Owner Karin Proudfoot shares her hands-off approach
Carpets of frosted snowdrops, golden winter aconites and silvered crocuses stir slowly in this enchanting country garden: a scene so breathtaking it renders visitors speechless with awe. “The garden was already well known for its winter display when we moved here in 1983,” says owner Karin Proudfoot, who lives here with her husband Christopher. “Although we knew about it, we were still amazed as the display unfolded the following February. Recently, a minibus driver brought a group here from east London, and he simply stood rooted to the ground, open-mouthed – he’d never seen anything like it before.”
The Old Rectory was built in the early 19th century – so the collection could date back to the Victorian era. “At first I simply left well alone,” says Karin. “It wasn’t until later that I began to see the snowdrops as individual plants, rather than just part of the annual display.”
The garden and woodland wrap around three sides of the house, shielded from the road by a handsome sycamore and an oak tree. “When we first moved in, the garden was neglected, with daffodils peeping above tangled grass and among overgrown shrubs and hybrid tea roses,” says Karin. “One of the first tasks was planting a hawthorn hedge to shelter us from the northerly winds that whistle up the valley. It was only when the hawthorn whips were nibbled to almost nothing that we realised how many rabbits occupied the garden!”
Early inspiration came from The WellTempered Garden by Christopher Lloyd. “It was the first gardening book I read,” says Karin. “My mother was keen but I don’t recall her reading about gardening, while my father would prune, secateurs in one hand and an RHS guide in the other.”
I began to see snowdrops as individual plants, rather than just part of the display
Gardening on the North Downs, Karin has very free-draining chalky soil. “Despite having a good depth of alkaline loam above chalk, plants still struggle here in hot, dry spells,” she says. “Planting the right plant, in the right place, is key to their survival. Fortunately, we have plenty of leafmould to dig into the soil.”
Initially, with a young family to raise, Karin simply left the snowdrops and aconites undisturbed, to multiply and spread freely. “Their presence dictated where I cut out my borders, although, with time, they’ve spread there anyway! After a while, I added a few early-flowering Crocus tommasinianus, which have
spread, injecting clumps of silvery-lilac flowers among the snowdrops and aconites – a combination I really love.”
It was shortly after the Millennium that Karin began collecting special cultivars. “At first Christopher asked why I wanted to collect snowdrops when I already had a garden full of them. As a result, I focused on the most distinctive flowers, heeding the words of plant hunter Tom Mitchell, who advised that any snowdrop that can’t be picked out from three metres away is probably not worth having!”
Each new, special snowdrop is planted in compost in an aquatic pond basket then sunk into the ground, enabling the roots to spread out through the plastic mesh. “Planting them in baskets makes it easier to lift and divide them,” says Karin. “I label them carefully but I also keep a detailed paper plan as a back up.”
Among her collection are several yellow-patterned cultivars including
G. plicatus ‘Bill Clark’ (named after the warden who spotted it in the Wandlebury Ring nature reserve in Cambridgeshire) and ‘Spindlestone Surprise’. Others are chosen for their singular form and foliage. “I’m especially fond of ‘Natalie Garton’, so much so that I accidentally bought it twice! It has bold foliage and generously rounded f lowers, and does very well here.”
Another unmistakeable, earlyflowering cultivar is ‘Daglingworth’, which has tall, blue-green leaves and a dotted, ruffled inner skirt. It was originally discovered in a church f lower arrangement, picked from a nearby colony. Galanthus elwesii ‘Hunton Giant’ lives up to its name, being around 38cm (15in) tall with unusually broad, upright, long-lasting greyish leaves: this cultivar was found in an old rectory garden in the village of Hunton, Kent.
Garden visitors are always curious how Karin maintains the naturalised snowdrops. “I tell them that the main thing is to delay cutting the grass until late spring,” she says. “Another frequent question concerns the optimum time to move snowdrops. There are two schools of thought. One is to move during January when they’re just peeping above ground, the other is to wait until after the foliage has died down, in late June or July.”
With trees along three sides of the plot, shade-loving plants thrive, especially bergenias. “I used to think they were hideous, but have come to love them because the leaves are so handsome and evergreen, spreading nicely to cover the soil. My favourites are bergenia ‘Claire Maxine’, with its gleaming, puckered
Planting snowdrops in baskets makes it easier to lift and divide them
green foliage that reddens in winter, and ‘Eden’s Magic Giant’, which goes limp in frost, but quickly recovers. Then there’s ‘Godfrey Owen’, which has unusual brown-purple leaves – I’ve combined it here with snowdrop Galanthus elwesii ‘Margaret Owen’, named after Godfrey’s wife. They make an attractive couple!”
Spring is heralded by shade-loving hepaticas, trilliums, pulmonarias, epimediums, hellebores and corydalis, interspersed with daffodils that have become naturalised over the decades. “Hardy geraniums have proved very useful, helping to fill gaps in the early days, following the advice of Margery Fish who once said: ‘When in doubt, plant a geranium.’ Initially I rather overdid it, but
I’ve since weeded out all but the best.”
Summer brings double peonies, eryngiums, acanthus and clematis, followed by a lull. “There’s always a gap in July, which tends to be hot and dry,” says Karin. “Things then pick up again for autumn with asters, persicarias, helianthus, sedums, colchicums and a growing number of ornamental grasses. I grow two ornamental grasses in particular – Calamagrostis brachytricha and Calamagrostis acutiflora ‘Avalanche’ – in my small box parterre. They’re transformed by frost, alongside skeletal sedum heads and rose hips.”
Nearby stands a handsome piece of variegated box topiary which, over the past 25 years, has been coaxed into a fine, 2m-high spiral. It seems to symbolise the patience, resourcefulness and artistry underlying this beautiful garden, which is a joy to all who venture here. ✿