Sleeping plants rest in their thirty-two degree blankets. Blizzard and temperatures in the teens come and go but all is safe at thirty-two degrees. While that may keep most things dormant, Cyclamen coum and skunk cabbage will continue their flowering cycle. Imagine finding the snow melted and realizing that plants were flowering beneath? Prior to our historical snow, I had observed my snowdrops, checked in to see how far along they were. The very first signs of flowers were nestled at ground level. How much light penetrates thirty inches of snow? How long will this set them back? Recently a friend asked me, "Are the snowdrops blooming under the snow?". My immediate response was "No". Weeks have passed and I wonder. A snow shovel could answer this question, but a gardener knows better. More harm than good will come from the digging and removal of snow, just to appease my curiosity. It's the fleeting nature of snowdrops that has me curious. What if they are thinking about flowering and I can't see them? What if I miss days of viewing them as they are buried under snow? What if snowdrops are called that because they will flower under snow instead of just with snow?

I'm sure if snowdrops persisted into April, I wouldn't have this fixation. The short window of flowering is exactly what makes them so desirable. The peonies and iris seem awfully enchanting, but not nearly as much as my calanthe orchids or my tender acidantheras flowers in summer (or my snowdrops in February). They demand you pay attention. Everyday. Examine them, check for fragrance, mark the flowering dates in your garden journal. The gardener will know them better than a petunia or azalea bloom. The way the calanthe orchids carry each little orchid on the flowering stem and the lip is so delicately notched. The way the purple lays on the white in the acidanthera bloom and looks like a butterfly. These are the plants that become a destination into the garden. The reason to get up in the morning and to run out in your pajamas. These are the plants a gardener loves most.

In my days at the nursery, occasionally someone would ask "Does this flower all summer?". How boring to think it might. How glad I was to say no.