Sarah’s Diary February 2026

February continued to hold onto its cold grip. The plants are clearly ready, with swollen buds everywhere, yet very few are actually opening. Trays of Crocus sit in full pans waiting patiently for a sliver of sunlight that never quite seems to arrive. The grey skies have kept them tightly closed, which has meant bringing a few indoors if I wanted to capture them properly on camera. It has been a lesson in patience, yet the Alpine display house continues to offer colour and interest, a reminder that spring is gathering momentum.

Some species have looked spectacular regardless of the weather. Narcissus cantabricus has been quietly luminous, its pale trumpets catching what little light there is. Iris reticulata ‘Scent Sation’ has offered both colour and fragrance, Iris reticulata ‘Pauline’ bringing a pop of well needed colour, while Colchicum kesselringii has provided elegant, cool-toned flowers that seem entirely unfazed by the cold. Cyclamen coum doing what they do best. Cushions of Dionysia tapetodes have been a glowing beacon against the dull backdrop, and Crocus chrysanthus ‘Cream Beauty’ has lived up to its name whenever a brief brightness passed overhead.

One of the highlights of the month was a secret adventure with Jim Jermyn to seek out the source of the yellow snowdrop, known as Galanthus ‘Primrose Warburg’. We headed south to the first of three sites, pulling up beside an unassuming wooded copse. After hopping a stile, we were met with a breathtaking sight. The forest floor was carpeted in snowdrops, a continuous white blanket stretching between the trees. It was almost impossible not to tread on flowers as we carefully picked our way through. We found plenty of Galanthus nivalis, including the Flore Pleno form. Interestingly, none of us could locate Galanthus plicatus, even though ‘Primrose Warburg’ is believed to be a hybrid between G. nivalis and G. plicatus. Perhaps with more time we might have uncovered it. There were, however, generous numbers of Galanthus ‘Primrose Warburg’, displaying a spectrum of colour from zingy lime to soft lemon yellow. Naturally, this evolved into a friendly competition to find the brightest specimen. Some of the larger clumps had already gone over earlier than the surrounding white forms, possibly linked to reduced chlorophyll affecting vigour. Others appeared to have been nibbled by pheasants, which may find them slightly sweeter.

Reluctantly we moved on to the second location, another woodland equally blanketed in snowdrops. This site held a good distribution of yellow forms, though fewer than the first. Here the plants were noticeably shorter, forming a lower, denser layer beneath the trees. There was an added sense of excitement due to a very lively shoot taking place nearby, which gave the phrase plant hunting a slightly more literal edge than usual.

The final stop was considered the true source of the ‘Primrose Warburg’ type. By this point the skies had cleared and sunlight poured through the trees, illuminating vast drifts of white. I have never seen snowdrops in such density. They extended as far as the eye could see, a sea of nodding flowers shimmering in the light. The yellow forms sparkled in the sun, some particularly choice individuals glowing against the white backdrop. It felt like the perfect conclusion to an exceptional day of botanising.

As the month drew to a close, temperatures finally began to lift. The first Iris aucheri and Iris bucharica pushed through in the bulb house, a clear signal that the crescendo of the spring display is about to begin. There is a sense of excitement and anticipation building as February is giving way to the promise of colour and real start of what spring means in the alpine world.

Its looking like March is already shaping up to be another busy one. I aim to be heading out with the RBGE Scottish Natives team for more fieldwork and conservation discussions, which always brings fresh perspective to the work we do back in the Garden. There is also a trip planned to Yorkshire to see Saxifraga oppositifolia in its natural habitat, something I have long wanted to do. After weeks of watching buds hesitate under grey skies, the chance to see one of our most iconic alpines thriving in the wild feels like the perfect way to welcome the season properly.