Tulip Envy

In a garden, as in life, envy is not a good thing. One can appreciate the object of that envy, though one must be sure to be grateful for what one has, not what one wishes one had.

That’s cryptic, I know. Or rather, it would be if not for the title of this piece. Tulip envy. Yep. That’s the truth of it.

I was at a friend’s house the other day and was gobsmacked by the sight of her tulip garden. I stood there, frozen with awe, drinking in that vision. Except for photos in gardening magazines, I’d never seen such perfect tulips, such vibrant colors, such an awesome display of floral pulchritude. To say I was envious is . . . well, it’s redundant considering I’ve already mentioned the envy part a couple of times. (Just so you know, all the photos in this blog are pictures of my tulips.)

That’s when I realized it’s okay to be appreciative, but it’s not okay to compare. Her tulip garden is decades older than mine, so it’s had time to mature. It’s in the shade, which around here is necessary since the sun, even on cool days, tends to be intense. (And one of my tulip gardens is always a bit sickly since it gets more sun than the poor things can handle). And anyway, seen for what they are, each of my little displays is perfect.

Another thing I learned is that what you get is what you get. So much of tulip gardening in the dry high plains is a matter of weather and hence beyond our control. This year, for the first time since I’ve lived in this house, we had heavy snows at the beginning of November, followed by a few half-hearted snowfalls rather than the reverse, which is what we usually get. Because of that early snow, tulips that lay dormant last year burst forth with color this year. Even my poor sun-drenched garden put forth a few lovely blooms.

So, I’m celebrating my blooms. Focusing on that which is right beneath my feet.

At least when it comes to tulips, that is. What else is right beneath my feet is an incipient forest. A couple of springs ago, my neighbor’s ash tree flooded my yard with an inch-thick coating of seeds. I cleaned them up the best I could. Twice. (Because there was a second seed flood shortly after the first.) As it turns out, whatever conditions produced tulips this year also produced ash seedlings. Dozens and dozens of them. I can’t just let them be, can’t pull them up like weeds because some of those root systems are a foot deep, can’t kill them because I’d also kill the surrounding ornamental plants. So . . . dig, dig, dig.

And then, boo hoo, some of my newly sprouted lilies froze in the last frost. Something else I had no control over. They were eager to start growing during the warm days, but the poor things conked out during the frigid months.

With all that going on, it’s truly much better to concentrate on my lovely tulips!