A blooming lovely Monday morning.

Snowdrop

Welcome this Monday morning. Firstly, my apologies, I was unwell last week and didn’t post here. Secondly, I want to introduce what I hope will be a feature of the blog for a while, Blooming lovely Mondays.

Those of you who know me well know I have a passion for flowers. This idea of flowers and flower lore comes from that and I’d like to share a little of the things I know.

My first blooming flower is the exquisite and precious Snowdrop. Personally, I adore this courageous and brave flower.

This small bloom stands, even if its head is drooping with the chill and damp, it stands its ground and proclaims to all winter can’t command it. Every February my heart is lifted on the first sight of Snowdrops, be they in my garden, in the lanes I drive along, or in the woods where little else offers a show of life.
Some call the Snowdrop unlucky, a flower of death. Perhaps that might be because it is often found in churchyards, possibly the idea might also come as so often this flower is stronger than us, and though it refuses to succumb to the chill of winter, humans do. February, the month of the Snowdrop is one of the most difficult months of winter for us to bear. We feel the end of the cold is near and even on days of real chill, when the sun appears we act as if Spring had bloomed, going out without the wraps and woollens worn in January. Therefore, we get chills, colds and coughs. February fools us with its still and sunny days.

There are legends of the Snowdrop. Some tell it was the first Valentine gift, granting sight to and a girl when she applied the extract sent by her imprisoned lover. Her sight returned by a balm made from this flower the first thing she saw was the note stating this gift came from: Your Valentine.

Another legend is equally astonishing for this tiny and fragile bloom. It is told that when God created the earth he gave colour to everything but snow and wind. Naturally both these elements were disgruntled with their lack and at the end of the first winter they refused to leave the land until God gave them a hue of their own. However, it seems God had used most of the primary colours and many shades of them. Too many in fact for either wind or snow to accept what might be left. Eager to save the lovely world from the freezing chill, God called for any of the creations to share their colour with snow and wind. Each that he asked refused, but for the noble Snowdrop who agreed to share the pristine whiteness of its blossom with snow. I just love that, I don’t recollect what colour wind managed to grab a hold of, but the bravery of this snowdrop makes me love it.

This flower often blooms on Candlemass day or Lamas day in the northern hemisphere. Sometimes they are called Candlemass Bells or Fair Maids of February. There are customs that warn these beauties shouldn’t be picked nor brought into the house for if they are, a death will surely follow. Now, I don’t know about that but I am glad people are discouraged from picking these lovely flowers. If they are cut or picked they don’t bloom again and what a sadness that would be, to lose a patch of hope from the winter landscape for one individuals pleasure.

I prefer to let the Snowdrops in my garden stand until they fade away. They are the heralds of Spring and I will await them next year as the greedy winter finally let’s go its grip on the land.

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12 thoughts on “A blooming lovely Monday morning.

  1. What a lovely posting feature– an auspicious way to start a new week! Thank you for sharing the mythology of the snowdrop. How lovely. Candlemas always draws me as a time to reaffirm commitments and start afresh for the new cycle.

    • Thank you for commenting, Flossie. This time of year is one that urges the me to try to move forward. Lessons learned are set asside and new paths beckon. I love spring time.

  2. I love snowdrops and have never heard that they bring bad luck if picked and brought inside. My husband brings me a small bouquet of snowdrops each year. He buys them from the market. I like to think that these delicate flowers are signs of warmer weather and sunny days that will come soon. Perhaps the fact that the flower seems to be threatened in their wild habitats, and in most countries it is now illegal to collect bulbs from the wild. Not here.
    Wishing you a sunny, warm spring whose heralds are the snowdrops.

    • Thanks for commenting Carmen. Please send me a link to your blog so I can follow it if possible. How lovely that your husband brings Snowdrops to you. Don’t worry about the ill luck thing, I think its a UK tradition only, perhaps because Snowdrops seem to like growing in cemetries here. I agree with you about them showing us that Spring sunshine won’t be too far off. I believe it is illegal to collect the wild bulbs here the same with wild Primroses, another of my favourites. Another few weeks and we should be awash with Primroses.

  3. Daisy, I hope you’re feeling better now! 🙂 I absolutely LOVE your idea for Blooming Lovely Monday. I don’t know that much about flowers, but you know I eagerly devour anything with folklore. The legends you shared were great and all new to me (what a treat!!!). I particularly liked the one about God asking his creations to step forward and share their colors with snow and wind. I like how the snowdrop shared its hue (somehow I imagine wind being an icy blue, silver, or gray). Wonderful post and I look forward to more!

    • Thanks for commenting, Mae. I’m improved, thank you and I’m looking forward to this flower powered set of posts. I agree with you about those colours for cold winds, but what about warm ones? Very occasionally here in summer we get warm winds that sweep dust from the Sahara here, astonishing. Those winds are always balmy. I think they might be a soft orange shade or raspberry ripple tinted. What do you think?

    • How interesting that winds from the Sahara reach you. I like the soft orange tint and the raspberry ripple. Perhaps a sliver of butterscotch or almond, too. Colors are so much fun!

    • The winds dump sand on the cars in a very fine layer. It doesn’t happen too often but is usual for summer and very warm nights where the temperature doesn’t drop by much.
      Yes, the colours for the breeze would be a fabulous thing to see.

  4. we have had the strangest winter. warm into the 60’s F and then below freezing. My poor flowers are so confused. I have daffodils and camellias blooming at the same time, and trying to keep things from dying in the cold. LOL sorry to hear you were under the weather. Hope some warm sunshine is in your near future.

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