The Snowdrops

I hear my neighbor long before she comes walking rapidly alongside my driveway. She yells out down the block, “It’s December! You’re not supposed to be working in the garden now.” I am down on my hands and knees, gently raking away huge maple leaves from a patch of hardy iris with a hand rake. My neighbor says something similar every time she comes by and sees me in the garden, which is quite often, since this is the route she walks her big german shepherd, and morning is the time of day we are both out. She hasn’t gotten the point that gardening for me is the same as tennis for her, an activity in which she spends many sweltering summer days and cold winter mornings perfecting her formidable backhand. Both are pleasurable, good exercise, and, since most of my garden borders a sidewalk, social. It’s the time of day I meet people — joggers, dog walkers, school children, people on the way to work, garden people.

Except for rainy or snowy days, I garden all year round. Besides cleaning the leaves off hardy plants like the iris, I put a circle of leaves around plants like the clematis that will benefit from a winter mulch. I prune certain plants that are better off pruned when they are dormant and replace bulbs and plants that have worked their way out of the soil. But most of all, I admire and plan for spring. The irises were a gorgeous blue-purple color in May. Now they are tan stalks topped with dark brown seed pods surrounded by yellow leaves, beautiful in a different way against my neighbor’s green yew hedge.

Many plants are interesting to look at in the winter, but one maverick which is supposed to bloom in February, has for years started blooming for me in November, and a series of these bulbs continues flowering through the early spring. It is the snowdrop. The snowdrop is quite magical. It starts up from the ground with the white flower already formed and held like a pearl between the tips of its two long green leaves. The stalk pushes the flower up higher and higher. When the plant reaches maturity the stalk gracefully arcs and the flower hangs downward. It opens into three pure white petals that form an umbrella over a green and white striped inner circle which in turn surrounds a small patch of yellow.

Though the snowdrop looks as delicate as a baby’s hand, it is in fact quite hardy. In freezing weather it bends over till the flower touches the ground. I have seen snowdrops lying limp on the snow on a winter morning. As the day warmed up I would find them sprung back to life again, as if spring had returned in the time between breakfast and lunch. The snowdrop is small. The stalk is about four inches high, and the flower is only a little over an inch long, so I try to plant a few close to the paths where they will be easy to observe. One of its virtues is that squirrels don’t eat it, which lets it multiply. Where you have planted one bulb you will soon have a patch of a dozen or more nodding white blossoms among green leaves. They are a joy to see, especially in the winter and early spring when very little else is in bloom.

Snowdrops, like all hardy bulbs, actually require cold weather in order to set flowers. If you were to grow them in the south where the ground never freezes, you would have to put the bulbs in the refrigerator for several weeks in order to get flowers. Although they can stand cold weather, one thing they can not tolerate is a wet bottom. Bulbs that are not well drained will soon rot. If you find your bulbs are disappearing, it could be that they are getting too much water from the sprinkler system. One trick is to plant bulbs where it’s too dry for other plants to survive, such as under a maple tree, the roots of which suck up every drop of moisture from the earth.

The snowdrop bulb is about the size of a garlic clove, but instead of being curved, it is symmetrical, like a teardrop pearl. The bulb is off white in color. It should be planted in September or October about three inches down and three inches apart. However, if you happen to have bulbs at other times of the year, don’t wait for fall, just pop them in the ground, as long as the ground is not frozen and you can dig the hole. Water well, then leave them alone.

After the snowdrops bloom the leaves continue to grow until they get quite long and fat. In fact, it’s easy to confuse them with daffodil leaves. The leaves make food for the bulbs to use the following year. That’s why it’s important not to cut them off for several weeks after the flowers are gone. At that time one will notice several round green balls bobbing on the stems where the flowers were. These are the seed pods. In addition to setting seeds, snowdrops also multiply by dividing their bulbs to make new ones. Snowdrops are among the easiest things to grow. Plant five or more snowdrop bulbs near the door you usually use, for a delightful surprise come February or March. You can buy them in September at nurseries or online.

My neighbor and I chat for a while till her dog becomes restless and wants to move on. Before they leave I show her the snowdrops blooming in December. She is amazed. I am amazed at her backhand.