Crocus season of remembrance

Crocus vernus v albiflorus

Snowdrops are starting to go over. Snow is predicted for this evening--and of course the brunt of spring crocus blossoming is just begun.

Everyone is a gardener in March--and most of us have way too many pictures of the early flowers--like crocuses (snowdrops, winter aconite, pasqueflowers). And even so we keep taking pictures of them.

White flowered forms of Crocus vernus are sold everywhere in the fall. But these are not what you see above (the true wild form) but what Reginald Farrer called "the Dutch Fatties". At least I'm pretty sure he did--or something demeaning along those lines. The Dutch Fatties are what Nurseries usually have in their bins, and what most people plant.

This is one of the most "hallowed" crocuses I grow--tracing back to 1983 (Click here to see more information about it) planted in late October. I must inquire where we got the plant--I can almost guarantee the nursery is no longer in existence (Mars of Haslemere? Avon Bulbs?). Check back in a week--I might have figured it out. [Boy! Was I wrong or what? see below]*

It thrived in its little alcove in the Rock Alpine Garden and a corm mysteriously migrated to my garden where it was similarly happy and has begun to spread.

But that is not the end of the story! In June of 1986 I co-led a tour to Switzerland for Denver Botanic Gardens with Ed and Hope Connors. This was just a week (or perhaps days) before the Second Interim International Rock Plant Conference I helped organize in Boulder that attracted over 400 registrants and perhaps 150 volunteers and locals...very busy times, those!

The bus was driving over Maloja pass towards Pontresina in the Swiss Engadine (my first trip there--I keep dreaming of returning). I saw a few primulas out the window, flickering past, and lots of snow. Things were going by too quickly! At one point I said "let's stop the bus: I think there are some crocus here" (a ridiculous thing for me to say. I had never been to the Alps hitherto, and honestly didn't know beans about crocuses). It was a bit chilly, but all twenty or so participants got off the bus--all of them following me--and I was thrilled to be treading the alpine turf--seeing some gentians here and there...we kept walking. And walking...and I realized I better pull a rabbit out of my hat or SOMETHING... and a quarter mile or so from the bus I spied a snowbank. I vaguely recalled they liked snowbanks. As we rounded a bend--sure enough all around the base of the snowbank there was a carpet of glistening white Crocus vernus v. albiflorus--just like the ones I photographed this week in my home garden. (See above).

For decades Ed would smile that bright smile of his and praise my clairvoyance about this incident. Ed is a hero of mine I have never properly acknowledged hitherto in my blog: he was bigger than life and his memory shimmers whenever I think of him. Yes, I must blog about this tall, handsome man who has had such a profound impact on Denver (and beyond) that's never been properly celebrated.

And needless to say when my little (but burgeoning) colony of white crocus blooms, it brings with it a gust of alpine breeze and I'm transported for a few moments to Switzerland and I shed half my years!

Funny, isn't it, how almost every plant we grow has a story attached. And often memory of a smile of a friend long gone.

*I asked our indefatigable (and awesome) Plant Records office where the bulbs came from and they responded: "PJ Christian Minera Wrexham Clwyd," which in turn brought forth a rush of memories: I visited Paul Christian in April of 1981--hard to believe it was 44 years ago! And most amazingly, he is still in business as https://www.rareplants.co.uk/   How cool is that?