Nature

The Isle of Man is something of an ideal home for that daintiest of spring flowers, the snowdrop. They tend to favour the heavy clay soils found in many places here and will grow well in quite a degree of shade.

They are pretty impervious to frost and ice and generally like the conditions of the north west as witnessed by some fine displays in Manx gardens - guaranteed to give those with even the most severe cases of S.A.D. some relief.

As lifestyles go, the snowdrop seems to have drawn the short straw. For the latter part of spring it’s just a bunch of green leaves. By the time summer arrives the leaves are dying if not dead.

Then, in often the coldest, certainly the darkest and sometimes the snowiest time of the year, its delicate white heads appear from the barren earth, seemingly overnight.

Why anything so fragile and beautiful should wish to appear at this time of the year is a mystery, and presumably the reason why a snowdrop means "hope" in the language of flowers.

Whoever named it in Latin took a more pedantic view, although you can't fault their accuracy; "Galanthus" means "milk white flowers". The common or garden snowdrop is G. Nivalis. Although familiar to everyone they are - much to their annoyance no doubt - often confused with the snowflake (Leucojum).

Whilst it’s true they both make their appearance at the same time, it's really not that tricky to tell them apart. A snowdrop has three long pure white petals, surrounding three smaller green tipped ones. In a snowflake, all the petals are green tipped and all are the same size.

Know your snowdrop from your snowflake?

Whilst there are many different varieties of snowdrop (over seventy if you're counting) all of them are white - but all are different. The real problem is you might have to get down on your hands and knees to really appreciate them.

Even the giant snowdrop (G. Elwesii) is hardly likely to terrify the neighbours. Still, if you do get down and can't make it back up, it's worth taking the time to have a smell of the flowers, which have a sweet, honey-like fragrance.

I'm told the nectar is deliciously sweet, though I've never had the nerve to try it!

Their beauty and scent has been appreciated for hundreds of years. In his Herbal of 1597, John Gerard lists them under "bulbous violets" confusing them it seems with snowflakes but concedes, "some also call them snowdrops".

Of their use in herbal remedies he's somewhat dismissive. "We have nothing to say... onely (sic) they are maintained and cherished in gardens for the beautie and rarenesse of the floures... and sweetnesse of their smell."

So if you're still suffering from the winter blues, check out these smallest inhabitants of the island's gardens and glens. After all, at least you'll be around to enjoy what little sun we get this summer!