2 THE SNOWDROP 



far between in January. Tennyson noted this, as he 

 had the knack of noting the secret working of nature, 

 in his poem on the Progress of Spring : 



' The ground-flame of the crocus breaks the mould, 

 Fair Spring slides hither o'er the southern sea ; 

 Wavers on her thin stem the snowdrop cold, 

 That trembles not to kisses of the bee.' 



Hardly any rule but has its exception. Once, and 

 once only, have I seen honey-bees, lured out by the 

 sunshine of early March, busy among the chill snow- 

 drop bells. Bees must have been exception .ally early 

 in that year and snowdrops exceptionally late, for the 

 latter are generally at their best in the second week of 

 February. How, then, is fertilisation of the ovary 

 effected? Lord Avebury explains that, although the 

 pendulous anthers form a cone which can hardly fail 

 to be touched by a bee entering the bell, ' in the absence 

 of insect visits the filaments relax, the anthers separate 

 and some of the pollen drops on the viscid stigma.' l 



Another peculiarity of the snowdrop is that, unlike 

 almost every other bulb which we cultivate for the sake 

 of its blossom, it refuses to be forced into flower. 

 Crocus, narcissus, tulip, hyacinth and squill respond 

 readily to artificial heat, and may be brought into 

 flower weeks, even months, before their natural time. 

 Not so the snowdrop. It is true that by bringing the 

 bulbs into the house and so protecting the young 

 growth from frost, you may, in a hard winter, obtain 

 blooms indoors a little while before their ice-bound 

 brethren in the open; but even so, you will fail to 



1 Flowering Plants of Great Britain, p. 417. 



