I went to a garden store a few days ago to buy herb seeds with my wonderful gardener husband, Andy. It is a wonderful experience to anticipate and dream of herbs and vegetables growing in our summer garden. But for now, we have to wait for the miniscule seeds to germinate and grow under inside lamps. At the store, there were lovely rustic mason jars sitting in a row. Each had a delicate ribbon tied around the neck of the jar and tulips of all colors casually cascaded from each vessel.
Tulips are often available around Easter and though it is a bit early for that holiday, the stores are eager to have any sign of spring on display. The customers agree. The varieties of tulips are rather amazing, though rarely seen by most people. In flower shops, tulips are usually of the simple single variety in a magnificent array of colors. If you are lucky you might find parrot tulips, frilly things with bold color combinations. Fringed parrot tulips can be had if you plant your own bulbs. This is true for the rich and full double tulips that almost look like peony. I tried my hand at growing tulips many years ago when I first planted my garden. They were easy to grow and gorgeous. Unfortunately, the deer loved them as much as me so I never saw another tulip flower after the first planting.
Tulips signify a declaration of love, fame and perfect love. Oh, how I appreciate that flowers are so often associated with love and I am glad that tulips continue that trend.
By A. E. Stallings
The tulips make me want to paint,
Something about the way they drop
Their petals on the tabletop
And do not wilt so much as faint,
Something about their burnt-out hearts,
Something about their pallid stems
Wearing decay like diadems,
Parading ﬁnishes like starts,
Something about the way they twist
As if to catch the last applause,
And drink the moment through long straws,
And how, tomorrow, they’ll be missed.
The way they’re somehow getting clearer,
The tulips make me want to see—
The tulips make the other me
(The backwards one who’s in the mirror,
The one who can’t tell left from right),
Glance now over the wrong shoulder
To watch them get a little older
And give themselves up to the light.