Peak snowdrop…

We planted our first snowdrops (galanthus nivalis) here around 2012. Not native but widely naturalised. An absolute jewel. Snowdrop hybrids displaying unusual flowers can be sold for big money to ‘Galanthophiles’ - those who collect snowdrops. We have a small number of other varieties and species but our favourite is the simplicity of the snowdrop we all know and love.

Simple snowdrops..

We began by propagating them on our allotment after we’d found a few clumps elsewhere in the garden.  We have lifted and separated every year since.

Beneath hazel

The Woodland Garden was ideal for our first snowdrop planting.

No cosseting required..

Each year, after flowering and when still ‘in the green’, we divide up the thickest clumps, transplant and water them. No further cosseting is needed. A thick clump can provide a dozen small clumps and, once transplanted, the plants grow with greater vigour, quickly achieving their own ‘thick clump’ status

We’ve worked steadily until most of the Woodland Garden has been populated. It won’t be long before it is truly carpeted. The wet weather of last year brought the advantage of building big bulbs: the plants and their flowers are very bonny as a consequence.

Nature wants to have her say too and flowers are popping up in random spots now.

Seedlings are spread by ants who take the sticky seeds to their nests.

A feast for invertebrates …

We have a feral honeybee colony that has taken over a little owl nest box on a horse chestnut in the Woodland Garden. On sunny days the bees bump around in the snowdrop clumps, collecting nectar and spreading pollen. It is said that the temperature within a snowdrop flower can be as much as 2C warmer than the chilly air outside.  On these days, our myriad snowdrop flowers must offer the equivalent of a city of all-day breakfast cafes for invertebrates before the bees fly the few yards back to the warmth of their home.

A very satisfying watch.