Seeing Snowdrops

I really don't like cold weather and today is bitterly cold. Cold suits some people, but not others, certainly not me.

Some flowering plants can be at their best in winter. One example of this is the humble snowdrop.
 

To see snowdrops gives me hope that spring is coming. In the words of the late Captain Sir Tom Moore, they inspire me in lockdown to keep putting one foot in front of another, to keep going, in the hope that “tomorrow will be a good day”.

Snowdrops are also called ‘Candlemas Bells’ because they often flower at the feast of ‘Candlemas’ (2 February). If you don’t know what that feast is about take a look at the post Candlemas 2018. In our garden the earliest green shoots of snowdrops appeared just after Christmas. They were at their best on 2 February, but are still flowering now.

Towards the end of the dark cold winter, snowdrops are a sign of more new life to come when spring really gets going. For many months, they hide under the earth, beneath the dead leaves in the shady places. You would think they had died. Not so. The snowdrop bulbs have been feeding through their roots and growing new bulbs. As they start to flower, sometimes in snow, they look so fragile, but the plants are tough enough to survive the harshest winters.

A few years ago, I was looking at snowdrops in a churchyard and told a friend I loved snowdrops. She said she especially loved the inside of the snowdrop flower. That was a jaw-dropping moment for me. I realized that although I had seen snowdrop flowers in late winter every year since childhood, I’d never bothered to look inside.

How could I have reached senior years without ever looking inside a snowdrop? I suppose because, unlike other flowers like lilies, they don't ostentatiously display their stamens etc. The bell-like snowdrop flowers hang their heads shyly. As they are only about ankle height, I usually look down at them from above. Since that churchyard encounter, I’ve learnt also to get down really low to take a good look at the insides, which are beautiful, in every variety. I suppose some people are like that, protectively hiding some of their inner beauty or gifts, so others only see the outside as they look down on them.

I thank God for the inside of a snowdrop and for the lovely person who showed me it was worth looking for. Next time you see snowdrops, don’t just look from above, stoop and look inside. Next time you see snowdrops, remember that God doesn’t look down at you from above, but is alongside you and looks at your heart. Whatever you want to hide from others or from God, God loves you much more than you can think or imagine.

Image Credit: Photo my own