The Snowdrop Queen: Remembering Margaret Owen Ten Years After her Passing

October 24, 2014

And it was on this day, my dear friend, that the gardening world lost one of its most passionate voices – Margaret Owen MBE, the remarkable "Queen of Snowdrops."

Just hours before she passed, in a moment that perfectly captured her devotion to plants, she opened her eyes one last time to glimpse some autumn-flowering snowdrops brought to her bedside by a fellow galanthophile [gal-AN-tho-file].

Born to a Scottish farmer near Watford in 1930, Margaret learned early that gardens and farming could coexist beautifully.

"My father was unusual," she once reflected, "There aren't many farmers who garden as well as farm."

He nicknamed her "Maggie Mott" after a scented viola – a flower she would faithfully grow in every garden she tended throughout her life.

Oh, but it was at her beloved garden, The Patch – an acre of land in Shropshire – where Margaret's horticultural magic truly flourished.

Every year, on the last Saturday in February, she would host what became legendary snowdrop parties. Picture it, my friend: fifty of the country's most dedicated galanthophiles navigating winding country lanes to gather for a garden tour followed by Margaret's hearty stew and endless talk of their beloved Galanthus [gal-AN-thus].

Her expertise wasn't limited to snowdrops, though.

She held an astonishing four National Plant Collections – Camassia [ka-MASS-ee-ah], Veratrum [ver-AY-trum], Dictamnus [dick-TAM-nus], and Nerine [neh-RYE-nee].

A skilled plantswoman with a keen eye, she once explained her philosophy:

When you're competing, you don't win on what you buy, you win on what you grow and the more interesting the better.

The horticultural world recognized her contributions with the prestigious Veitch Memorial Medal, and in 2010 she was awarded an MBE for her service to heritage and gardening.

But perhaps her most lasting legacy lives on in the snowdrops that bear her family's names – including Galanthus elwesii [gal-AN-thus el-WES-ee-eye] 'Godfrey Owen,' named for her beloved late husband, with its distinctive six inner and outer petals.

Today, my gardening friend, when we see the first snowdrops pushing through winter's cold earth, we might remember Margaret's words about these brave little flowers.

And perhaps we might also remember her example – that a garden is not just for ourselves, but a gift to be shared with others.