Snowdrops Keep Swirling In My Head

I love snowdrops. How could one not? Shy and sweet, they appear exactly when the heart is weary and needs a sign of hope that spring is imminent. Defying all odds, these diminutive beauties push through the earth quietly and seemingly overnight, they delight our eyes with their slender green blades and tiny, white bells. With the garden still in winter’s grip, these small bulbs remind me to be positive and brave – despite the challenges, go forth and conquer the day. Good things do come in small packages.

In the course of passing the winter perusing plant catalogs and garden periodicals, I’ve been coveting a myriad varieties of Galanthus. It’s astonishing how many there – double/multiple petaled, unique markings of green on the white petals, some lightly fragrant. Even as I wonder how one is supposed to lie prostrate on the still cold ground to observe these special traits, I covet them all for my garden. Never mind that nobody will notice such details, just knowing they are there seems to warrant their purchase. Perhaps this fall I will be planting a sizable quantity and variety of snowdrops. Fingers crossed – if anything, I’ve learned from these pretties that hope springs eternal.

In extended ( okay, obsessive ) readings on snowdrops, I learned a heartwarming bit of snowdrop history. During the Crimean War, which is clearly the antithesis to Brits’ Agincourt, the starving and freezing British soldiers were deeply demoralized and hopeless. Till the earth, winter-worn and thus far bare of growth but covered in piles of shot and other warfare debris came alive as early bulbs forced their way through. Masses of snowdrops, crocuses and hyacinths turned the soldiers’ morale around. They were symbols of hope and optimism. Some of them planted snowdrops around their tents and huts. Others, brought or sent home specimens of snowdrops which were planted and duly identified.

It was only later that people fully appreciated just how significant the ‘flower of consolation’ and ‘star of hope’ were to the soldiers. This led to greater quantities of bulbs being imported.

Sharing their discovery with family and friends, the soldiers directly influenced a bulb mania of sorts. The best way to preserve precious or rare plants after all, is to disperse them widely. Growers and collectors and of course the rest of us gardeners owe much to them. The dedication of those early growers is why so many early varieties of snowdrops have survived. So a big thank you to them as well.

I love this story. Not only does it once again illustrate the healing, uplifting power of flowers but it shows us a soft, very human side of tough warriors. Something to bear in mind ( and heart ) at all times.

Let the snowdrop reign.

Note: Get out of the cold and stop by the Mooney Center Gallery. Enjoy the art!

Looking forward to – 

Snowdrops



(c) 2019 Shobha Vanchiswar


Code Rush

All winter long I look forward to spring. But I kinda need the winter. As much as spring is full of new life and milder weather, it is a really busy time. There is so much to get done that one needs to work at double pace. Winter provides the necessary time to plan and prepare for that frenetic activity to come. It’s not only the requirement of physical fitness but the mental readiness as well. In December, I totally chill out. I’m very grateful for the time to get cozy and lazy. In January, I start dreaming and planning for what I want to do in the garden. In February, I’m slowly getting myself ready but mostly, I spend the month complaining about the cold and harsh weather. In March, tired of grumbling, I eagerly start looking for signs of spring in the garden and towards the latter part of the month, I gently ease into the work of clean-up and repair. In April, work is in full swing.

This year however, February has let me down. It has been much milder than usual. My snowdrops have been out for two weeks already, the red maple is in full bud and it’s been feeling more like late March. I feel cheated. Without the usual February grace period, I’m sensing unease and uncertainty. It’s as though spring is trying to rush up to me simply to knock me down. March might still bring snow and ice to undo the efforts of plants that responded to the mild days thus far. What is a gardener to do?

Well, this gardener is going to rise to the occasion. Against my baser need to whine and vent, I’m challenging myself to be mature and wise. I cannot really pretend I have the power to do anything about the weather. Instead, while the temperatures are mild, I’m checking for what things need repair, reworking or replacing. Edgers to be realigned, a few pavers to be repositioned, posts straightened etc., Clean up can begin – cut back plants that were let to provide winter interest, lightly prune fruit trees, pick up winter debris. The front lawn needs some attention too. Because of how wet it has been in recent days, I’m going to wait for it to dry out somewhat. Walking on wet ground and lawn can be damaging so it is best to avoid doing so. I’ll use the time to check on supplies like stakes, twine, Epsom salts ( for the roses and tired feet), sharpness of tools and such. The compost heap can be given a good stir so it knows its services will be called upon shortly.

I still feel a bit rushed but I think it’ll be okay. As long as I remember to breathe deeply and pause every now and then to simply revel in being in the garden. That much I know I can do.

Heads Up! I will have some of my art works in a show at the Phyllis Harriman Mason Gallery, NYC, the week of March 12, 2018. I hope you will visit!

(c) 2018 Shobha Vanchiswar