Drifts of 'drops

Last weekend we went to visit our besties, P, A, S & A, down in lovely Dorset. Whilst the welcome was warm, the weather was cold. Really, really cold. But we didn't let that knock us off our stride. Bravely coated and firmly booted against the elements we went out on Snowdrop Patrol. 

Now I know that there are lots of superstition about snowdrops, and how it's unlucky to pick them and bring them indoors, but for me they're irresistible at this time of the year. Frankly I'm grateful for anything that's prepared to bloom outside, and turn muddy borders into drifts of elegant white. And that's exactly what they do down Dorset-way. As you drive along there are banks of wild snowdrops blossoming all over the shop. 

I have a sense that we're culturally prejudiced against them by dent of still being a bit too close to those soppy Victorians. They had a penchant for planting snowdrops on the graves of their loved ones, creating an association between the shroud-like blossoms and the grim reaper. I know we're in the 21st century, and all that, but we're not that many generations removed from those tender souls who now lie in the churchyards that they once tended. Think about it: lots of grandmas and grandpas alive today can boast of having had a grandma and/ or a grandpa who was a Victorian. And, as a result of that generational proximity, there's probably still a residue of Snowdrop prejudice in our contemporary folklore. I mean, how many people do you know, who will not, under any circumstances, bring snowdrops indoors as cut flowers?

In any event they're putting on a splendid show in the gardens of Kingston Lacy.

Kingston Lacy

There are drifts of dreamy white across the lawns, and in the woodland that make you think of snowfall. On closer inspection, however, you realise that they're Snowdrops.

Ready, Steady ... Garden!

We also popped up to Shaftesbury, where they were having a Snowdrop Festival at the Abbey, presided over by no less a personage than the Great King Alfred himself, who is said to have founded the Abbey in 888 AD as a house for women.

King Alfred the Great presiding over
Shaftesbury Abbey's Snowdrop Festival

And, in the course of our Snowdrop Patrolling, we scampered past the incomparably pretty Gold Hill, one-time setting for the famous Hovis bread ad, directed by Ridley Scott. And, as luck would have it, the sun was just beginning to peep out from behind the clouds.

Gold Hill, Shaftesbury, Dorset

All the best for now, and wishing you cosiness and warmth,

Bonny x