The Wasteland: loss and longing (2)

The endless cycle of idea and action, endless invention, endless experiment

T S Eliot

What else is evident? A few daffodils and bluebells are putting out leaves, but there are no snowdrops. No snowdrops? How can a garden in this part of the word not have snowdrops? These beautiful miniature soldiers of the early spring push their way up along roadside banks and in the corners of gardens everywhere.

For each decision I make there must be some justification. For the absence-of-snowdrop-problem the route to supplying the garden is straightforward. Piers' cousin Becky has a beautiful garden in Sussex and she digs up snowdrops that come from their grandparents' house in Wales for us. They are pure and simple in shape and the connection through the family is a very satisfying one; plants given and received are reminders of friendship. To contrast with their simple form, we buy some Galanthus Titania, one of the Greatorex varieties with a green, double centre, from Marchant's Hardy Plants near Lewes.

The snowdrops are on hold in pots and I can start to clear and then feed the soil in preparation for design and planting.

 Double snowdrops occur not infrequently in the wild, but this one was developed by Heyrick Greatorex in Norfolk in the middle of the last century. In general, I am aiming to use plants that have had earned their place in cottage gardens over the years, so buying bred plants goes a little against the grain. I rationalise by thinking that this is such a charming plant that it would be silly to reject it out of hand. The scale is just right, it gives us a subtle contrast between the two and it seems like a natural development of the common snowdrop. Nature is ever-changing, so I let myself venture into the realm of enthusiastic plant developers. Greatorex was an avid snowdrop-grower; who am I to reject his work?