Benington snowdrops
Cath Harris
Far from the beaten track and tucked without fanfare in a quiet corner of rural Hertfordshire is one
of south-east England’s most stunning natural attractions. Set around crumbling Norman walls and a
striking 19th century gatehouse, the snowdrop gardens of Benington Lordship boast nearly 150
varieties of this diminutive plant. The site lures thousands of visitors annually, each one charmed by
the pearly carpet that in February envelops Benington’s manor house. Its occupants, present and
past, have been showing off their gleaming snowdrop display for as long as any of them can
remember. “There’s something joyful about snowdrops; when they start to come up you know
you’re getting to the end of winter,” says Susanna Bott, whose family moved into the red-brick
building in 2005. “People want something that lifts them a bit at this time of year and snowdrops
seem to do that. We are very lucky.”
Despite juggling the demands of a young family and adjoining Lordship Farm, Susanna and Richard
Bott have found themselves intangibly bound to a flower about which many people obsess. The
family tie is more than 100 years old and with it has come a responsibility to those for whom
Benington’s snowdrops seem a mainstay. “I meet people at the school gate and they say ‘you’re the
snowdrop lady!’ while others who visit seem to be emotionally attached to them,” Susanna explains.
“Maybe they’ve been coming for years and link them to something else in their memories.”
Retaining those bonds, and exploiting them – snowdrop open days are a commercial venture after
all – has meant a steep learning curve for Susanna who claims only to know five varieties of an
undemonstrative flower also known as Candlemas bells and snow piercer. She has made it her goal
to put Benington Lordship on the nation’s snowdrop map. “The snowdrops at Benington are entirely
naturalised and it really annoys me when I see the contrived gardens of other snowdrop venues.
Snowdrops are rampant here. If they love you they will spread.”
Susanna and Richard swapped homes in the village with Richard’s parents exactly 100 years after his
great grandfather, Arthur, bought the Georgian property with riches made building Indian railways.
Arthur and his wife Lillian enlarged the house and gardens, and re-routed the drive which now splits
tree-lined lawns. The couple’s grandson, Harry, took over in 1970 when his wife Sarah set about
making the most of the site’s snowdrops which may originally have been planted to light the path to
Benington church. “She really got to grips with them and brought in a goat to clear the moat which
was overgrown,” Susanna recalls. Set free, snowdrops raged across the banks of the former
waterway creating the spectacular display that now accosts even the most expectant of visitors.
New varieties were collected with the help of head gardener Richard Webb and plant sales boomed.
“Sarah wound the sales side down a little before we moved in, knowing that we weren’t going to
manage,” Susanna says. “I had done a course in garden design and knew a lot about putting plants
together but not much about actually looking after them.”
Looking after plants is one of Richard Webb’s specialities and it is he, almost singlehandedly, who
manages the Lordship’s seven-acre grounds. This patchwork of woodland, water and more formal
areas encloses the house completely and includes kitchen and rose gardens, a wildflower orchard,
two ponds, an enchanting cowslip bank and numerous brimming shrub-filled borders. Richard has
become a master of chipping – slicing up dormant snowdrop bulbs for reproduction – and swapping
– the bartering for new varieties as we might formerly have exchanged stamps or cigarette cards. “I
was given a Diggory (Galanthus plicatus) a few years ago and when a man from a bulb company
visited he got very excited about it,” Richard recalls. “It was unusual at the time and is still the one
that everyone wants. It’s very showy and has an unusual flower shape, and when I started swapping
it our name got around.” Richard is now a regular on the snowdrop-swapping circuit. “We try to get
15 or 20 new varieties every year and now they’re so popular that people are going into woodlands,
finding snowdrops that are slightly different and putting a name to them.” Bulbs are also sold, can
make up to £400 and there’s even a market on eBay. “You can name your price. They’re worth as
much as someone is willing to pay.”
While Diggory is Richard’s snowdrop of choice, Susanna favours Mighty Atom (Galanthus Mighty
Atom), a striking plant with two inch flowers now thriving next to one of Benington’s spring-fed
pools. Last summer [2012], Richard chipped 30 bloated bulbs into 330 pieces which he is
propagating in an airy greenhouse. “A bed of Mighty Atom just looks so lovely,” Susanna enthuses,
reluctant to let any go. “But we did it to sell them. The market for them is limitless.” Other new
varieties forming part of the collection are planted and labelled, some now peeping between the low
branches of shrubs, others complementing strategically grown hellebores and dogwoods. Visitors
seeking rarities will spot the delicate patches of green that distinguish snowdrops species.
Elsewhere, and unfamiliar to some, will be the blue-tinted leaves of Galanthus gracilis Highdown,
and an unusual form of the common Galanthus nivalis, whose small green splashes have been
usurped by yellow.
As the bolder blooms captivate Susanna, it is the delicate drifts of single flowered Galanthus nivalis
and the double Galanthus nivalis flore pleno that wow the casual visitor. To encourage them further,
Richard delays grass-cutting until bulb foliage has died back and clears leaves from overhanging
sycamores which provide essential shade in summer. He has worked at the Lordship for 20 years and
lives in a tied cottage opposite the tall entrance gates of his employer’s grounds. The proximity is
perfect since he often works seven days a week, rarely being satisfied with the competence of
contractors. Richard envisaged a job in conservation but at Benington has been able to nurture his
passion for wildlife. “Barn owls play musical chairs with the 15 boxes we have put up. All of them
have been used and we have three nesting barn owl pairs compared to one pair 10 years ago.”
Spotted flycatchers are another regular but their numbers have dwindled, likewise those of turtle
doves. “Most summers in the past you couldn’t help but hear turtle doves in the churchyard. Now
they have completely gone.” More cheerily, kingfishers, ravens and red kites are seen often, the
latter spreading from the Chilterns where they were introduced in 1989. Management otherwise is
“a Forth Road Bridge thing”. No sooner is maintenance for one year complete than the next year’s
schedule begins.
The to-do lists of both Richard and Susanna are always long and frequently feature snowdrops.
Richard hosts up to three daily walks in February, sometimes guiding up to 50 people at once.
Susanna is usually busy providing refreshments on the veranda with fine views over her sumptuous
garden. Her time serving hot drinks and cakes can be revealing too. “People are very proprietorial
and often say I don’t like this or that. Sometimes I get letters addressed to ‘the tall one in the
tearoom’.”
Benington Lordship is open several times a year with delicate spreads of aconites and scilla, and a
colourful autumn chilli festival, among attractions. But it is snowdrops that seem to grip people
most. “They are fashionable at the moment and fashions usually burn themselves out,” Susanna
says. “But that isn’t happening and interest is just growing and growing. Snowdrops scratch the
imagination and as soon as you get the bug you get obsessed.” Does she rejoice when the first
snowdrop appears in spring? Far from it. “We panic because it means the open days are about to
start!”