Snowdrops Before Snowflakes

This winter the snowdrops emerged before the snowflakes fell — and this sequence also expresses my preference. I’d rather look at clumps of snowdrops and other pre-spring ephemerals than piles of snow. Last week, in near zero degree temperatures, and before this past weekend’s snow dump, I went hunting for Galanthus nivalis in neighbourhood gardens. These are photos of my favourite finds.

Emerging from winter sleep

 
 
 

Snowdrops

by Louise Glück

Do you know what I was, how I lived?  You know
what despair is; then
winter should have meaning for you.

I did not expect to survive,
earth suppressing me. I didn't expect
to waken again, to feel
in damp earth my body
able to respond again, remembering
after so long how to open again
in the cold light
of earliest spring--

afraid, yes, but among you again
crying yes risk joy

in the raw wind of the new world.

 
 

Snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis)

 
 
 

The Snowdrop

by Anna Bunston De Bary

Close to the sod
   There can be seen
A thought of God
   In white and green.

Unmarred, unsoiled
   It cleft the clay,
Serene, unspoiled
   It views the day.

It is so holy
And yet so lowly.
   Would you enjoy
      Its grace and dower
   And not destroy
      The living flower?
Then you must, please,
Fall on your knees.

 
 
 

This morning I found Anna Bunston De Bary’s poem that captures the common snowdrop’s charm. The last line makes me smile because I agree the best way to examine and admire these diminutive beauties is on one’s knees. And when photographing them, not only do I kneel but I also assume sideways-lying or almost prone positions on the sidewalk or sod, which occasionally elicit curiosity or concern in passers-by who question if I’m ok. “Oh yes,” I reply, “very ok.” And then I realize how odd I must have looked from a distance. Perhaps I should put up a small sign: Photographer at Work.

Contrary to the natural order of the seasons, in Vancouver this year we experienced snowdrops before snowflakes and were teased by pre-spring weather and early blossoms before winter stormed in this past week. As I write this post, snow has been falling steadily for the past two days, burying all the snowdrops that emerged in January and early February. The snow is deep and heavy so I suspect the flowers have been crushed. After the snow melts, though, I’m going to try to prove myself wrong and will look for resilient survivors.