Galanthus ‘S. Arnott’
At the time of writing the snowdrop season is well underway.
Social media is full of pictures showing carpets of pure white Galanthus nivalis or special varieties that gardeners have often paid a not insignificant amount of money for. Here in the UK, where the humble Galanthus is enjoying cult status, the enthusiasts, the Galanthophiles and Galanthomaniacs, are out in force.
Yes, I split snowdrop enthusiasts into two groups.
The ‘Galanthophiles’ are a small group of very gentle souls; their season is marked quietly, with visits to collections and meetings with small groups of other Galanthophiles, and while they will purchase bulbs and share bulbs with their friends, the size of a collection is of no real importance to them. What’s importance is the passion, and reverence, for the humble snowdrop in all its forms.
The ‘Galanthomaniac’ is quite a different beast; for the Galanthomaniac the size of the collection is vitally important, but so too is the price. You’ll easily recognise Galanthomaniacs at snowdrop events; they strut around like roosters, or as we call them here in the UK, cockerels, crowing about how many varieties they grow and how much they paid for plants. Oh they will share with other Galanthomaniacs, in the way a rooster will share corn with his hens, but they’ll be sure to share only if they’re getting something back of exactly the same financial value. I don’t doubt that they love looking at their plants as much as the true Galanthophiles, but their relationship with the genus is much more about status with other Galanthomaniacs than quiet moments of worshipful reverence.
There is a handy test that you can use to test which of these two groups you’re dealing with: ask them about a fairly common snowdrop (Galanthus nivalis, G. ‘S. Arnott’, G. elwesii etc) and see what the response is. A Galanthomaniac will roll their eyes and tell you how common and boring these plants are, while a Galanthophile will speak with great enthusiasm and joy.
Galanthus nivalis
By contrast I’ve found most daffodil people pretty amiable really.
There’s the Galanthophile’s passion for the genus, but I guess there is a much wider range of things for people to be interested in. Snowdrops are all variations on a theme of white. I’m sorry, but they are; white with green bits, white with yellow bits, green bits where there should be white bits, tall ones or short ones, double white flowers and single white ones. The season is also very condensed too, so every bit of interest is squashed into a few short (and usually cold and dark) months.
The genus Narcissus is most famously yellow, yet within the yellows there are many different shades of yellow and different shapes of flower. Then of course we move on to the white ones, which pick up from the creamy yellows and go through to perfect white while still keeping the various different flower shapes. Then, as if this wasn’t enough for us to enthuse about, we have different sizes ranging from tiny plants no taller than the length of your thumb right up to plants the height of a small child!
Oh, and the season is long; if you ignore plants to be grown under glass then you’re looking at having flowers from February/March right through to June if you choose the right ones (and yes, assuming you’re not living in the coldest regions). If you are a little more committed and do want to grow Narcissi under glass then you can start with the green autumn flowering N. viridiflorus, then go through ‘forced’ Narcissus through winter before joining the rest of us with the outdoor plants as winter eases.
Narcissus ‘Saxby’
The genus Narcissus offers so much more for gardeners than Galanthus.
This is down to two key things: the number of and diversity of the wild species, plus the fact that people have been deliberately breeding Narcissi for centuries. For those of us a little more inclined to collect plants there are plenty of options; historical varieties, varieties raised by specific breeders, botanical species, miniatures, dwarf daffodils (ones whose common name is ‘narcissus’ or ‘narcissi’), specific divisions (long trumpets, triandrus, N. cyclamineus hybrids etc), doubles, ‘split corona’ varieties, scented varieties… I’ve probably missed some out! The genus Narcissus offers so much variation for gardeners to enjoy and, I’ve saved the best for last here: as daffodils aren’t the current ‘in thing’ it’s entirely possible to build up your collection without spending the sort of money snowdrops command.
Narcissus ‘February Gold’
I’m not saying there aren’t expensive bulbs to be had but these are the exception rather than the rule, and high prices are almost always either for something very new or something very rare (and even then they tend not to be in the same ball park as new or rare snowdrops).
Of course the idea that daffodils are better than snowdrops is nonsense. Both are wonderful, both bring joy to the gardener, both are fun to grow. The big thing for me is that daffodils, this is to say the whole genus Narcissus, offer more to gardeners than the snowdrops in terms of diversity and accessibility. If you can grow daffodils and snowdrops in your gardens then you should grow daffodils and snowdrops in your garden, and while snowdrops enjoy their celebrity status we should also celebrate the humble daffodils too.
Daffodils were my first love. As a kid I’d crawl in the garden looking for the little green noses poking up. Saw my first snowdrops at maybe 11. Not that common in my area. First bulbs I ever bought, a box of 10.
Love them both equally. And it is annoying that snowdrops are now a thing, because I was brought up to look down on fads. Fads cost money. (Frugal parents.) I can still hear my Dad saying “Why the hell do you want to be like everybody else?”
Snowdrops will probably not become a thing in the states because it doesn’t fit in the native or nothing mindset.
Hopefully if the snowdrops don’t reach the same cult status in the US they’ll actually remain more accessible to gardeners. Sure you might have to seek them out, but they won’t end up with the quite unnerving price tags we see here.
They have. -MW
Early flowers of any kind are welcome, but I find snowdrops a little dull, and have none here. Give me daffodils anytime!
Snowdrops have their place for sure, but there’s a charmingly overt beauty to the daffodils.
Welcome to Garden Rant, Ben! Happy Ranting! Xxx
Thanks Anne!
“The season is also very condensed too, so every bit of interest is squashed into a few short (and usually cold and dark) months.”
Galanthus can start blooming in October (the very early varieties) and bloom to March or April. Early flowering Galanthus peshmenii, and G. reginae-olgae, both of which flower in late October. Several weeks later G. elwesii var. monostictus next flowers. At Christmas, cultivars Xmas and Three Ships flower. January through March is prime flowering for lots of varieties. Alas a carpet of snow drops may be the closest many of us may see to snow with early spring (from climate change).
There are also autumn and winter flowered daffodils…
I find the idea of snowdrops being the closest we might see to a carpet of snow quite sobering, yet also entirely plausible.
Come to Maine, you’ll see snow, then bare ground then maybe snowdrops in March, then more snow, then maybe daffie tips in late March and more snow….so a carpet of snowdrops would be lovely instead.
I love daffodils. It is a strong sentiment to start a comments post with I grant you. Like you Ben, I grew up in the UK (Liverpool) were in primary school we did classes each spring based on William Wordsworth’s classic poem “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud”. I also remember they were the standard Mother’s day gift (which in the UK falls in March)….sadly a bunch of daffs doesn’t seem to cut it these days!
Each time we go into the local supermarket and see the bunches of daffs set out, I cant help but say to my daughter, “When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils;”. She is yet to be impressed by this.
I thought I should arrive with a bang!
Your daughter might not be impressed by your poetic prowess at the moment, but I’m sure she will come to love the poem in time. There are worse associations to have.
Ben, thanks very much for your Galanthus-Narcissus showdown. (I’ve also been enjoying your thoughts and photos on Instagram and your blog.)I know the Galanthomaniac type. I once encountered a similar ilk among the American Hosta Society many years ago. Crisscrossing a Hosta garden is like wandering through a pretty cemetery. For some it’s the flowering cherries; others tend to like the gravestones. A few, of course, others enjoy both. In one particular Hosta garden, the Three Kings (experts?) slowly went around assessing—thre gravestones—what was labeled correctly or not. When there was consensus opinion of poor taxonomy, the label was ceremoniously around, shaming the poor owner and mostly ignoring what was in any way appealing about the hosta. This had a profound effect on me. I lost interest in hostas. I still have a few and am open to others, just not so wantonly. By the way, here in central Kentucky, I have a little daffodil called ‘Little Beauty’ blooming now. A dwarf, yellow trumpet with cream colored petals. It has been around since 1953. A notable senior citizen, but it’s scarcely offered anymore. Ageism? I asked a bulb dealer why they didn’t offer it. Their answer: “We’ve got one better.” Really? I’m sticking with ‘Little Beauty.’
Hello Allen, and thank you for your continued support.
The plant world should, to all intents and purposes, be jolly and filled with co-operation, but the truth is that there are those who take the interest too far and use their knowledge simply as an excuse to be pomous asses. There are also those people who approach the plant world with wonder and joy, and use their knowledge to inspire others. We definitely need more of the latter!
I love daffodils too. Not the simple ones in school bus yellow, mind you. I adore the soft butter shade of ‘Minnow’ and the muted apricot of ‘Edinburgh.’ The ruffled petals of ‘Gay Tabor’ and ‘Lingerie.’ The hundred bold yellow-and-orange flouncy ‘Tahiti’ blooms dancing in the breeze along my fence line. Couldn’t help but feel poetic as I wait for my pots of forced bulbs to awaken!
Excellent choices; spring will be here soon!
“ there are those who take the interest too far and use their knowledge simply as an excuse to be pomous asses.” Awesome!! I am so looking forward to your future rants. I dare not mention the various heaths and heathers I have that always look good amidst the dwarf conifers year round in my garden. Thank you Bro!
Heathers are so badly maligned in gardens; isn’t it depressing?
A little trim over after flowering and they get on with life without asking much, yet the way so many gardeners go on about them you’d swear they were spread by the devil himself.
I’ll endeavour to keep the standards of my ranting high- thank you for your support!
Wicked and wonderful! And an excellent distinction between love for the sake of it and status. Plant people are not immune from human pecking orders, one upsmanship, and collections for the sake of collections. Whether Galanthus or Monstera, all of these obsessions remind me far too much of tulips and beanie babies.
I love my G. nivalis and G. elwesii and find it fascinating to discover variations here and there — that is enough joy for me. As for daffs — bring on as many forms and subtleties as possible — (just not pink!). Thankful they are still very much ‘of the people’ — MW
I can see why snowdrops appeal to people; it’s about the nuanced details in the plants, much in the way that ferns and the miniature conifers have their appeal. So many snowdrop collectors, notably the ones that tell you how good they are (the people, not the snowdrops!), appear to collect only on name.
Big statement to make? Possibly, but it’s not uncommon to hear the immortal words “I lost the label so I have no idea which that one is…”
Gosh well I’m guilty of that all the time with my daffodils, etc… But I put that down to age on the brain and too much to keep track of. — MW
I’m a bit the same. It’s strange how losing labels is considered a disaster in snowdrop circles but less so in daffodil circles; given that the number of named daffodils is far greater than the number of named snowdrops you’d think gardeners would get ‘label anxiety’, but maybe daffodil growers are more chilled out?
I just need flowers! Daffies, Snowdrops, Crocus, Hyacinths, Hellebores, early Camellias; bring em on! I have a difficult time during the dark Winter days (SAD) so I am so glad to see any flowers again.
I certainly appreciate the sentiment; during the dark days of winter any sign of life is welcome. There’s something actively defiant about the shoots as they come up through the cold earth.
I don’t think Galanthus grow where I live here in Texas, but Leucojum do. Almost the same, sort of. I enjoy the few I have, but am always delighted when my daffs start blooming – this time in January. Most of what I have are probably February Gold, but as with others, I have no idea what they are, it’s been so long since I planted them. Most of the daffs in my yard are seedlings anyway, which is even more delightful. No labor (labour) went into the planting of them. Those are the best kind!
It’s interesting to know that Galanthus don’t do too well in Texas (although possibly not surprising?), but that Leucojums do. The South East of the UK has always had a ‘continental’ climate and has been getting warmer and drier, although not quite reaching the summer heat of Texas just yet; at the moment Galanthus do OK in that part of the UK, but from what you say I think it’s logical that this might not be assured for the future.