Now that the snow has decided to take a few day hiatus (probably to some snow spa to prepare it for the last snowstorm of the season) the early spring flowers have had a chance to stretch their petals and get some sunshine. In particular, the snowdrops have made quite a showing in my garden. I love snowdrops. It means that the torture is almost over.
True to garden naming form, while you might think that the name snowdrop has anything to with the fact that they bloom while we still have snow, you would be completely wrong. They are, in fact, named for a type of earring that was popular with Germans a few centuries ago.
Snowdrops are interesting little flowers, in that they are bulbs, but you will never find them for sale in your local Home Depot. Well, you might, but I would HIGHLY recommend that you don’t buy them as chances are they are dead. Snowdrops should be planted “in the greenâ€. Dry bulbs have a difficult time surviving and establishing. Most reputable plant nurseries will have some stored in a fridge in the autumn.
I am in good company when it comes to my love of snowdrops. There are a few Gods and Goddesses that have take a keen liking to them as well. Mercury used them as a pharmaceutical and Brigid offered them as a promise of Spring’s return.
Apparently, it is not coincidence that snowdrops start me dreaming of Spring. Like little spring ‘shrooms, these plants have the power to make vivid dreams. An extract from the plant has been found to enhance dreaming. The substance galantamine in the plant is responsible for this. But, while better dreaming is pretty cool, better reality is even nicer. This substance is FDA approved for treatment of mild Alzheimer’s disease. It makes for more vivid reality in those who have started to slip away to a permanent dream world.
*sigh* The snow will be back in a few days (in better cold shape than ever, I bet) and the snowdrops will be hidden again. But I will know they are there which, without even having to ingest them like the desperate garden druggie I am, will bring me vivid dreams of my garden to come.