THERE are two ways of looking at snowdrops. The first way to appreciate them is to wander through the countryside marvelling as great waves of snowdrops wash against the sides of valleys, flow past trees and around rocks: the big picture. Any flower in abundance, especially after we have struggled through the travails of December and January, will always lift the spirits. This is what gets the general public excited: they want to shake the tinsel from their hair, wrap up warm and be uplifted by a hope of snowdrops—there are a number of collective nouns for snowdrops, but I think ‘a hope’ is the best. It is one of the great pleasures of winter—others involve buttered crumpets and warm firesides.
The second way is to get up close and personal as every variety is different in subtle ways. This is the world of the galanthophile: a group of very happy people who spend the cold days of January and February on their knees in obeisance to the infinite ways in which the snowdrop settles its sepals. The differences are subtle: in the centre of each flower is a tracery of green lines that rearranges itself into different patterns. All beautiful, some simple, some complicated and some entertaining: there is one called Galanthus
Grumpy’, the markings of which are arranged in the shape of a disgruntled bandit. The royal family of galanthophiles is a group known as The Immortals—people who are lucky enough to have a snowdrop named after them. It has to be your full name so G. ‘Barbara’s Double’ does not count, but G. ‘John Tomlinson’ or G. ‘Naomi Slade’ tick the boxes: we live in hope.
Esta historia es de la edición February 07, 2024 de Country Life UK.
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Esta historia es de la edición February 07, 2024 de Country Life UK.
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