EXTRACT FROM THE CURRENT NEWSLETTER

Snowdrops

I was rather disappointed that none of my snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis) appeared last year. They have never really thrived here, and a friend told me recently that they don’t like heavy soil, which is what we have, so I expect that’s been the problem. I recently saw a short talk on snowdrops which explained that they don’t often reproduce through seeds as there are not too many pollinators around in the early part of the year to be attracted to their flowers, so they can’t rely on bees and therefore generally just produce more bulbs. However, they do have a clever way of scattering a few seeds.

Apparently the green “lumpy” bit at the back of the flower (the elastiome) is very attractive to ants, which take them back to their nests, eating the green bit, and discarding the seed inside, which can then germinate at its leisure. How clever is that?

Here are some other interesting facts about snowdrops:

Their leaves have specially hardened tips to help them break through frozen soil and their sap contains a form of antifreeze to prevent ice crystals forming. On very cold mornings, clumps will flop down as the water is ‘frozen’ inside the cells, but soon perk up once temperatures rise and the sap can flow again.

Snowdrops contain an alkaloid, galanthamine, which is licensed for use in the management of mild and moderate cases of Alzheimer’s disease in various countries, especially Eastern Europe and Russia. It is a compound that is also obtained from the closely-related flowers, daffodil and summer snowflake.

Snowdrops were once called Candlemass Bells. As a symbol of purity and light they were brought into churches on 2nd February – Candlemass Day – a Christian feast that commemorates the ritual purification of Mary forty days after the birth of Jesus. It also marks a more ancient festival celebrating the middle of winter, halfway between the shortest day and the spring equinox. Even today, churchyards are often full of snowdrops, planted to supply flowers for Candlemass.

Beverley Brock