Stubborn Snowdrops

See those tiny green tips poking out of the leaf litter and frost? Yes, those stubborn little buggers. My snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis) were up in December this year. We had a stretch of mid to upper 40s and a couple of days flirting with 50 and zoop! 

I am a passionate snowdrop lover. I've planted them all over the yard, but they, in their infinite plant wisdom, have reseeded to the above patch and a couple of others. It seems a bit of extra moisture is their happy place, so why my most robust group is under the katsura, is a mystery. 

They will hang out and be fine through the temperature fluctuations of late winter and will bloom once the soil warms a bit more. Snowdrops are the first things to grow in my garden and can be an early nectar source for any bee foolhardy enough to stumble out on a fine March day. 

Snowdrops are native to Europe and were introduced to Great Britain by the Romans. We have a long love affair with this tenacious, yet delicate flower. You'll find it lauded in art and poetry down through the centuries. One new use science has found for snowdrops is as a memory improvement supplement for Alzheimer's. The alkaloid galantamine found in snowdrops turns out has human benefits.

Plant them in autumn and make sure to check on the spot if temperatures rise above freezing. Let them go to seed and see what happens. Snowdrops are not bothered by bunnies or other rodents. I seek them out to sooth my soul when winter seems to never end. Their tough beauty always brightens my day.

Suddenly Snowdrops!

See those charming little green tips poking out from under the leaves? Snowdrops! One day in the 50s and pop! They appear. I'm leaving them be in their cozy nest of katsura and Allegheny viburnum leaves. The dollop of rabbit scat will give them some extra nutrients.

I don't think they will do much besides poke their noses out of the leaves until March when we get a solid stretch of highs in the 50s. Maybe. All bets are off with climate change. Last year it snowed in April.

Snowdrops are one of my favorite flowers. I admire their ability to be supremely elegant in flower while remaining tough as nails. I cherish their fleeting ephemeral grace that reminds me that beauty is everywhere if we take the time to look for it. I'll be checking on these lovelies every day until they flower and fade. It gives me an excuse to trot out to the back end of the yard and see the homestead from a different perspective. Plus, katsura leaves become fragrant when they turn and fall, so it's with a zing of spiced sugar that I crouch down and check on these markers of spring.

Snowdrop Season

 
My snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis) have been up since January. And climate change is a myth? I think not. We've had an extraordinarily temperate winter in 2016-2017. Temperatures are due to hit around 60 this weekend. Yikes! We've had very little cumulative snow, so I fear that soils are pretty dry right now. We'll see what happens to evergreens as things progress.

Snowdrops. These little magical flowers give me such pleasure. They are stubborn little things for a plant that seems so delicate. The patch pictured seeded itself from the original grouping and every year is a little bit bigger. The original planting had died out to only one plant. I'm happy to report that this year, it has pulled itself together and is up to three little bunches. This is why I let them go to seed. They are among the plants dispersed by ants.

Guess what? Ants are pretty important for seed dispersal for some plants. Snowdrops, wild ginger, and violets among others produce seed with a special appendage called an elaiosome that is rich in fats, sugars, and other goodies that are particularly attractive to ants. Propagators will often call it 'ant candy'. Ants will carry off the seed, consume their treat and the plant is neatly dispersed away from its parent. Cool, eh? This is why I don't get fussed over anthills or ants in the yard. Go, little pollinators, go!

It is fascinating to me to see where these ant candy plants pop up in the yard. My wild ginger is spreading slowly by rhizomes, but it has also appeared in places 20 feet from a patch in full sun. Will it survive? We shall see. I am awash in violets in the lawn and the beds. The back 40 (feet, not acres) resembles an alpine meadow in spring. I love them. As a child, I'd pick violets for tiny bouquets for my dolls.

What plants suddenly appear in your gardens?

Janustory Day 14 and 15

Janustory Day 14: I have been startled awake by the inquiring probe of a long bee tongue.

Janustory Day 15: The petal slit, I can now escape, if only I could find a way down.

#janustory #wordcount15

Escape is nigh! The days are growing longer and we've got a brief respite in the form of temps in the 30s. Ice is melting and re-forming in interesting patterns like giant frozen soap bubbles. I am optimistically combing the yard for the first signs that spring will happen. In my garden, snowdrops are the first to appear. They may yet turn up by the end of the week. We shall see.

 

A little sign of spring to tide you over.

Reflections on Life, Death, and Renewal Pruning

The snowdrops are early this year.

This week I attended the wake of my brother-in-law's grandmother, who passed away at the advanced age of 99. It was one of the nicest wakes I've been to because her life was celebrated. Family and friends told stories and caught up with each other. It got me thinking.

As the snowdrops pop out of the ground with the recent warm weather I am reminded of resilience. Snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis) manufacture their own antifreeze. We're due to get snow and below freezing temperatures, but they'll be just fine. Plants are tough buggers. They want to survive and many go to extraordinary lengths to do so. Remember that tree with a phone wire growing through it? We've all seen one.

Perhaps because we work with living things that gardeners may have a different perspective on death. We've all killed a plant, many times for no discernible reason. Many of us compost, seeing firsthand the wonder of dead plant material transform into nutrients for the living. Perhaps since we've had our share of loss, I see the ending of life as a natural state. We don't have children because after several miscarriages, we decided we had given it our best shot and stopped. I went on a lot of walks on my lunch hours during that time and I really began to stop and take notice. I really do smell the roses. And the witchhazel, sweet bay magnolia, violets and the bruised foliage of spicebush. Why? Because it's a feast for the senses. They are living, growing things of such beauty that by soaking it in, I, in turn am renewed.

Speaking of renewal, I am reminded of pruning, the art of cutting away. We often use two terms when we refer to pruning - rejuvenation and renewal. To rejuvenate a shrub you cut all of it back to within a few inches of the soil. Some plants thrive when you prune this way and others so resent it that they die. Renewal pruning is where you thin a plant by about a third, again cutting the branches at the base. This allows sprightly new growth, opens up the structure, and shapes the plant.

I could have come up with a list of resolutions for 2012. However, I think instead I will do a bit of renewal pruning. What kind of clutter can I cut away to open up my life and allow for new growth?  

Snowdrops Mean Spring

Galanthus nivalis poking up their beautiful little heads

The snow is mostly gone and today it is officially spring, at least in my book.  The snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis) are up!  They may take some time to fully open as it seems likely to get colder in the next few days.  Doesn't matter.  A plant has sprung from the soil, therefore it is spring.

I love my four seasons, but I have planted snowdrops, witchhazel, and early crocus just to break out of the winter doldrums.  How fabulous is it to have something actively growing in February?  We've had our thaw so the tree buds are swelling and friends have spotted cedar waxwings.  There's a small group of robins who have stuck around.  I expect they will polish off the last of the crabapples on the neighbor's tree pretty soon. 

Make a point of getting outside and snooping around the garden.  You'll be surprised what's waking up. The days are longer and balmy breezes aren't far behind.

The Korean boxwood flowers are fattening up!

Spring is in the Air!

Finally. 

It smells like spring.  The fragrances of soil, leaf mold, and waking plants are in the air.  Gone is the crisp knife edge of snow and the hard tang of frost.  The air is like wine and I'm prowling the garden daily to see what's happening.

Plants are awakening and one of the first are snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis).  I have them dotted throughout the beds, but one patch in particular always blooms first. These self-seeded from a clump across the way, and every year they save my sanity.  You'll also notice the wee rabbit turd. They are everywhere and although I hate the bunnies, they do produce nice fertilizer.

The witch hazel (Hamamelis vernalis) buds are just cracking open.  Hopefully they will fully unfurl in the next couple of days.  It will be in the 50s this week, but with steady rain.  The early daffodils are up and the early crocus.  I can see the geraniums and the heucheras popping up tiny leaves and the sedum are hard clusters of buds.  Even Gladys the rhubarb is starting to make an appearance.

What's starting to appear in your garden?