Thursday, May 09, 2013


When a crop of these tulips popped up this spring I did not recognize them. I do not plant white flowers. Or any pastels, for that matter. Only big bold colours make it into my garden, if I can help it. So, how did these get here? It turns out they are last year's pink and white-striped beauties, (see below), reincarnated. So sad! I guess I have to replant fresh bulbs every year to keep the dark colours. Have I mentioned that gardening exhausts me?
There is an analogy to be plucked from faded petals, I think. Fact: We get older. We get plainer. The 'youthful blush' so celebrated in victorian novels leaves our faces. Our hair is washed of it's colour. But the heart remains unaffected. If anything, with time, it glows brighter with the absorption of life-lived, and lessons-learned. (Says the girl who dyes her hair and frets over wrinkles.)