The discovery and naming of Wendy's Gold snowdrop

Bill Clark discovers that the pretty snowdrops growing at Wandlebury are the last remnants of a rare yellow centred variety.

Wendy's gold: Photo Snowdrop wiki

Transcript from the continuing podcasts from Route and Branch by Bill Clark. podcast available here: https://archive.org/download/wendys-gold/Ch10e-Wendys-Gold.mp3

I was sitting at my desk on March 21st 1985, perusing a catalogue for wild seeds and plants, when I heard a knock on the door. The lady apologised for being a nuisance, but explained that she had come on behalf of her son, Joe Sharman, a horticultural student at Writtle Agricultural College. ‘We believe a rare snowdrop is in the grounds here; could he have one?’ I said that it was usually not our policy to allow plants to be taken, especially rare ones, but we could at least have a look. 

I collected a trowel, and as we walked along I was acquainted with a little of her son’s history. Joe was a keen member of various horticultural groups, one of which was concerned about the loss of old varieties, and as a hobby, he searched the vicinity of old houses and gardens, and had already found some rare and uncommon plants, but he was especially keen on snowdrops. I soon realised that we were heading towards a group of yellow centred snowdrops, and remarked as such. Mrs Sharman stopped in astonishment, ‘Good gracious, how long have you known about them?’ ‘About 11 years,’ I answered, ‘My wife and I usually make a point of looking at them each spring – the clump is particularly good this year.’ As I knelt to dig a bulb from the edge of the clump, Mrs Sharman exclaimed, ‘Bless my soul, there is Joe!’ I stood up, in my hand a large lumpy bulb with three flowers attached. I was introduced to Joe, and he was informed of events so far. He turned to me, ‘You knew they were here, and never did anything about them?’

I explained that I was restoring a remnant of Cambridgeshire's chalk grassland, and only gave the garden flowers in our grounds a cursory place in my species list – at least he was able to see that I still protected them as enthusiastically as the wild ones. Any knowledge I lacked about this snowdrop though, I was hoping to now put right. ‘Joe, this is about to split into three bulbs, yours with pleasure, but the price is – all that you can find out about them, they may get a special place in my plant list yet!’ 

Payment arrived on the 26th of March! After extensive enquiries, he had found information of a similar snowdrop in the 1920s, the nearest location being the Cambridge Botanic Gardens. All had been lost – probably during a botrytis epidemic in the 1940s – he thought that the Wandlebury group were the only survivors. Surprisingly, any name had been lost too. He described how I could name and register them, and if I spent a couple of years building the numbers up, there was a good possibility that they would sell for more than £6 per bulb. However – Joe’s letter went on – you will need to hide them and take great care of them.

Only a day or so later, I saw an elderly man diligently quartering the snowdrop areas: I immediately dug them up and hid them in my garden. At the next management meeting of the CPS, I spoke of my snowdrop problem and suggested we should sell them to a bulb growing company. Agreement was given, and I posted off blooms to likely firms. The ‘Procurement Manager’ of the Horticultural Marketing Arm of Geest’s, replied the following week. Later, as we looked at the pot of bulbs, he remarked, ‘Your flower caused quite a stir when I showed it to my colleagues.’ I explained that I did not want to be accused of losing a rare snowdrop by taking it from the home where it had thrived for so long, so one bulb was to remain with me, and it was to be understood that Joe Sharman had potentially three bulbs, and could do as he wished with them: also if Joe and myself did successfully increase our bulb numbers, we would give Wisley and Cambridge Botanic Gardens samples. And finally, the snowdrop was to be known as, ‘Wendy’s Gold’ in honour of my wife, who had given me so much help and encouragement in looking after Wandlebury. Without a quibble he made an offer of £250 for the 27 remaining bulbs and said good-bye.

An expert from their ‘Quality Control’ department was next to arrive, wanting to examine the bulbs for disease. He gave an enthusiastic appraisal, mentioning that his boss had flown to Holland with the flower. I expressed my disappointment at the low price being offered for such a rare flower. A few days later a letter arrived giving three alternatives. A £1,000 outright payment, a £250 payment, with a five pence royalty per bulb over five years, or a £500 payment plus £500 worth of trees and shrubs for Wandlebury. I had at that time planted all the trees I needed, and being a firm believer in the, ‘bird in the hand’ theory, I accepted a £1,000 cheque on behalf of the CPS.

Next reading: Brewing mead https://routeandbranch.blogspot.com/2020/06/brewing-mead.html