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Nottingham Crocus Restoration Project

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About the project…

Nottingham City Council working on this project to restore the native Nottingham crocus to more areas of the city. The crocus has two varieties a spring flowering, Crocus vernus, and an autumn flowering, Crocus nudiflorus, which we are hoping to transplant around the city of Nottingham from strong populations we already have.

We have already successfully transplanted the Crocus to various locations including along the Notts-Beeston Canal with volunteers from The Canal and Rivers Trust and to a life-science company, Albumedix, on Crocus Street in the city. We hope to continue this work and partner with further companies and organisations within Nottingham to restore the Nottingham crocus to its former reach citywide.

Nottingham Crocus diagram of flower parts

Join us!

If you like to partake spreading this joyous native plant, we will be looking for volunteers to help us this upcoming autumn. Sign up to our newsletter to be the first one to know!

Did you know?

The Nottingham Crocus was so widely spread in the past that it inspired this lovely poem written by Mrs. Ann Gilbert

The Last Dying Speech of the Crocuses

Ye tender-hearted gentlefolk of Nottingham ‘s fair town

And ye who long have loved us from the poet to the clown,

Attend our sore complainings, while with one accord we weep,

From mossy beds uprising, where we sought our summer sleep.

How many a pleasant spring-tide, ere a blossom peeped of May,

Nor yet a stealthy violet its dwelling did betray,

And scarce the winter flood had left the lowlands to the sky,

We came in thronging multitudes to gladden every eye.

We came a simple people in our little hoods of blue,

And a blush of living purple o’er earth’s green bosom threw,

All faces smiled a welcome, as they gaily passed along,

And, ” Have you seen the Crocuses ? ” was everybody’s song.

Forth came the happy children to their revel in the flowers,

Forth came the weary working-man to that sweet show of ours,

Forth came the lace-girl cheerily the common joy to share,

And e’en the stately gentle-folks were pleased to see us there.

But oh ! twas dreary midnight when we heard the winds bewail,

Deep strange Eolian whisperings came sighing on the gale,

Anon with hammer, wheel and blast the welkin rang around,

And each a deadly shiver felt beneath us on the ground.

Awakened in the solemn gloom of that untimely hour,

The little spectre darted up of each ill-omened flower,

While o’er its head a coming spring in brick-red trance was seen,

As factory, mill and wharf besoiled our home of meadow green.

One gentle shriek the silence broke, one quiver of despair,

” Our fatherland, farewell ! ” we cried, ” Farewell, ye meadows fair ! “

” Dear children born of yester-spring dear children, yet to be

Ye shall but read of Crocuses no more alas ! to see.”

” Spirit of giant trade ! we go ; on wings of night we fly,

Some far sequestered spot to seek, where Iqpm may never ply,

Come line and rule come board and brick all dismal things in one

Dread Spirit of Inclosure come thy wretched will be done ! “

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