Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

The weather in Denver has changed lately. Instead of warm and mild, it turned harsh and bitterly cold. Not much snow, though. Actually we only had about a quarter of an inch a couple of nights ago but the temperature dropped into the low 20s overnight. Still, even that thin layer of snow promised something, so I headed to the Denver Botanic Garden hoping to capture these Snow White beauties dusted with white. To my disappointment, not only was there no snow left on the ground, but all the snowdrops were frostbitten and lying flat. It was heartbreaking to see those delicate white flowers seemingly destroyed.

 

Further down the trail, however, I discovered that some other blooms had survived the bitter cold. Snow crocuses were peeking out, ready to unfurl their petals - just not today. So delicate and small, yet so beautiful even before opening. Now I’m looking forward to checking on them in a week and hoping to find them in full bloom (well... I remember, this is February, too early but they, probably, don't care about the calendar :) ).

As I strolled along, looking left and right, I suddenly spotted them - dwarf irises. Tiny flowers, among the very first to bloom, often when snow still covers the ground. Most are pale blue and absolutely stunning.

And then I found a cluster in deeper, more vibrant shades - a little family of seven bright blue irises. Snow White and the seven dwarfs ;)

One Orange Monarch crocus had survived the night frost, but many of its petals had fallen, carpeting the ground beneath it. Another beautiful yet slightly tragic scene in nature’s play, a play with no written script.

I continued along the path and found more snow crocuses and even more dwarf irises...

I truly admire these small, brave flowers. Just two or three inches tall, they show remarkable resilience and a readiness to withstand the unpredictable twists of early spring. What strength!

I also found a white-and-yellow dwarf iris. Although blue is the most common color, they come in a surprising variety of shades. This particular flower had been touched by frost and didn’t look perfect, yet it had opened anyway, absorbing the sun’s rays as if determined to endure. What a fighter.

I turned toward the magnolia tree, hoping it hadn’t been fooled by the earlier warm days. I was relieved to see that the buds were still tightly closed, the delicate blooms protected from damage. Sometimes being second has its advantages in the game of survival :)

After about an hour, I returned to the low hills - and what I saw there truly surprised me. The snowdrops that had been lying flat earlier were standing upright again! What a pleasant discovery. They look so fragile, so vulnerable, yet I had clearly underestimated their strength. Good to know.

I kept walking and found more of everything - crocuses, dwarf irises, snowdrops... It was still cold (like 20 degrees cold), but the flowers seemed not to care much. They embraced the sunlight and gathered every bit of warmth they could.

Most of the winter aconites I had admired the week before were tightly closed after that cold night, protecting themselves. Yet a few were already opening again, revived by the sun. It looked incredible.

Walking along the paths, I kept finding more small flowers (mostly the same as I already saw) and the walk became more and more fascinating. Mid-February. Bitter cold. Dozens of blossoms everywhere. It felt almost unreal.

And yet, as much as I appreciated all of them, snowdrops remained my favorites. There is something special about them. I’ve always admired their delicate beauty, but now I also understand their strength, and that makes me appreciate them even more. I’m already looking forward to checking on them next week. Hopefully, I’ll find them healthy and blooming, as if the cold had never been there at all.

Photos taken on February 22, 2026.