Summer snowflake

On a brilliant spring morning with temperatures pushing 65 degrees, I found snowflakes on a southern West Virginia mountaintop.

My hosts were showing me the old farmstead they’d transformed into a rehabilitation center for birds of prey, songbirds and waterbirds. As we walked down a wildflower-lined path toward where the old farmhouse and outbuildings once stood, one of my hosts pointed to the ground.

“There was a row of daffodils here,” she said, pointing toward the rusted remnants of an old fence line. “And over here was where the lady of the house had her flower garden. Check these out!”

There, on the edge of a forest clearing, lay a small patch of the most gorgeous flowers I’d ever seen. “They’re called ‘summer snowflakes,’” the host said. “They propagate from bulbs about the size of a scallion. Apparently they used to be a popular ‘heirloom flower,’ not sold in stores, but passed down from one person to another.”

She picked one to show me. Three delicate, bell-shaped white flowers arched gracefully from a bladed central stem. Each white petal sported a pale green spot near its tip. I had her hold the flower while I took the accompanying photo.

I Googled “summer snowflake” expecting to find some more information. Instead I found information about a completely unrelated variety of viburnum bush. Fortunately my host was kind enough to send the scientific name: Leucojum aestivum. Using that, I found this enlightening Wikipedia entry.

Yesterday was a good day. I got to glimpse some uncommon beauty, and I had the privilege of learning something. A fine day, indeed…