There comes that time in May when I shall hold my breath as I eagerly await for the packed snow that is finally melted and now start to brave the downpour of the cleansing water that will nourish, and above all start the thaw of the beds that hold the treasures that I have been fantasizing about for over half the year in hibernation.

My small Martagon bulb has had time to grow, and become not only the glamorous showgirls in my gardens, but the star of the show. Seeing them on center stage with the spot light shining on their pristine dazzling blossoms has me smitten like no otherrrrrrrr.

Nothing can compare to those meanders during the break of dawn of the carpet of fragrance that wafts across the ever so soft breeze. The scent is unmistakable of L. martagon and hybrids.

Growing three- six feet tall. These long-stemmed beauties can and have survived 70 plus years. Stately martagon and the hybrids come in a pallet of colour, including soft baby pinks, to deep dark bing cherry. Pure winter snow color, moon-ray of yellows. Species of fire berry and blazing pumpkin delights. Then their are the freckles, spots and blotches and pin-wheel reverses. (back-side) OH MY GOODNESS. The long sigma that is yellow, green, orange, white, pink and purple. Awaiting the ripe moment of fertilization. Sticky, wet, moist. SHEESH…

Flowers open from the bottom up to display the most reveling clusters of dancing soft flowing down-ward and/or of side-facing blossoms.

Martagons began life as woodland denizens, hence making them compatible to dance with companions of hosta, astilbe in woodland shaded gardens.

Grown for many centuries, and still not well known is the martagon. I just read a book written by Wallace, that mentions the martagons in family gardens in the early 1800s. Gerard, mentions martagons in his gardens from the late 1500s. I am astonished that these still remain so obsolete within one’s gardens that have been cultivated for centuries.

Not difficult, but patience is a virtue when it comes to the mighty martagon. They love the coldest of winters, will take dry hot sunny days, but boy of boy they are very persnickety about being moved or sitting in wet undraining conditions. They sometimes decide to not show their stem for a year or two and when it does, only to die back again as if it was just checking out our world to see if the coast is clear. Then just when you may have moved on to the new season with all of the planting, you turn around and proclaim to yourself, There she Is—-

I am a anthophile, nyctophile, selenophile, pluviophile, nemophilist, … ahhhh petrichor, my favorite fragrance! But then again there is bibliosmia that gets me salivating as well. Don’t get me wrong as I have been know also as a thalassophile, nephophilia, dendrophile and lets not forget a cinephile and am smitten to ailurophilia.

Oh— One more thing, I may be a Galanthophile, as I have been trying my luck with Minnesota Galanthus, or better yet the common name, Snowdrops. It has become a second hobby. My collection is growing in leaps and bounds, giving thanks to a few growers out on the eastern coast of the United States. They too have been wondering on the viability in zone 5.. I think that when we push the zone, we become diversified. So—- you may see just a wee of the green in Jan and Feb as the emerging of the remarkable survival of snowdrops