MORE SNOWDROPS
Last year at about this time, I indulged my passion for an obscure snowdrop and ordered a small expensive specimen from an equally small catalog. Last night I did it again, only this time I ordered several plants. I can see this becoming an annual ritual, and I am mindful of the fact that there are some people, especially in England, who started out the same way and eventually went completely insane about snowdrops. The reference works refer to these individuals as “galanthophiles”.
I am not a galanthophile yet, but at the moment I do feel driven to order multiple varieties of a plant so diminutive that the average person–possibly even the average plant lover–would have a hard time telling those varieties apart. I chalk it up to a bad case of winter doldrums coupled with the insatiable lust of a devoted plant collector.
The snowdrops in my yard, including last year’s rare specimen, Lady Elphinstone, are buried under a thin layer of icy snow. If the current melt-off lasts for the next several days, they should emerge soon. In the meantime, I walk around town and inspect sunnier locales for signs of other people’s snowdrops. This sounds like a strange suburban neurosis, but I prefer to think of it as purposeful curiosity. I don’t care about my neighbors’ picture-perfect houses, new hybrid cars or even the sordid contents of their recycling pails on pick-up days–I only snoop to see if their snowdrops are up. When I discover those snowdrops I am filled with hope for spring, my life and the state of the world. That’s why snowdrops are important.
Surprising though it may seem, snowdrops or Galanthus are members of the Amaryllis family, making them cousins of those big Christmas or Valentine’s Day amaryllis that are currently sprouting long, long leaves in many homes. Snowdrops can be anywhere from a few inches to a foot high, with flowers that hang from a thin pedicel or stalk. Next time you see one, take a close look at the flowers. The three long outer petals can be roughly oval shaped, or notched at the bottom, making them look like elongated hearts. There are also three smaller inner petals. Most species and cultivars have markings, usually green, but sometimes yellow. There are many double-flowered varieties, as well as some that are sweetly scented.
Experts argue about the exact number of Galanthus species. There are also scores of hybrids and varieties, though only a relatively small number of them are commercially available in the United States. The simplest and best snowdrop is Galanthus nivalis, the common single snowdrop. You can buy these as small bulbs in the fall, and they will come up the following spring. Better yet, find a friend who is willing to divide an established clump, and get your snowdrops “in the green”–during or just after the plants bloom in the spring. A happy clump of G. nivalis will expand rapidly. If you help the process along by dividing the clumps every couple of years, you will eventually have inspiring naturalized drifts, as they do in England.
In the 1870’s, galanthophile and gentleman plant collector John Henry Elwes was traveling in eastern Turkey and came across a larger-than-normal snowdrop. He collected specimens of this handsome plant and installed them at his home, Colesbourne Park, in Gloucestershire, England. They have grown there ever since, tended by members of the Elwes family. Christened Galanthus elwesii in John Henry’s honor, this snowdrop looks like Galanthus nivalis, only larger and finer. It sometimes blossoms earlier as well. If you want a truly impressive stand of Galanthus, buy or beg a division of G. elwesii.
You can also sometimes find G. nivalis Flore Pleno, the double-flowered variety with green markings. I have not had tremendous success growing these from bulbs, but am shepherding my little clumps along in the hopes that they will eventually be large enough to divide. The specialist nursery that provided me with the yellow-marked double, Lady Elphinstone, also carries some of the “Greatorex Doubles”, double-flowered snowdrops bred by an Englishman named Heyrick Greatorex in the 1930’s, ’40’s and’50’s. Even experts have trouble telling the Greatorex Doubles apart, but if you like both snowdrops and double-flowered plant forms, one or two Greatorex varieties would really liven up your spring garden.
Whether you buy Galanthus bulbs or plants, put them in a sunny spot. Many authors say that snowdrops do not like acid soil, but I have seen flourishing beds of naturalized G. nivalis in acid soil. After the plants bloom, let the foliage die back instead of cutting it off or mowing it down in naturalized areas.
To obtain a catalog of both common and unusual snowdrop varieties, write to Hitch Lyman at The Temple Nursery, Box 591, Trumansburg, NY 14886. The Temple Nursery has no website and offers plants on a mail order basis only. Snowdrops are harvested “in the green” during spring blooming season, so orders should be made as soon as possible.