The tulips Edwin and I planted in the fall of 2019 are in full bloom, scattered about the front garden in sprays of colorful stands. We also planted hyacinths and daffodils, which came up nicely earlier this spring, but the tulips are currently stealing the show.
The tulip is my earliest memory of a flower. My mother planted them in the sunny back garden, which has since become shaded by the trees that have grown up over the years.
I remember having to wait for the bees to leave so I could stick my entire face into a tulip and inhale the mildly sweet and slightly spicy aroma. My parents have a picture on their wall of me doing just that when I was about 18 months old. I wonder how much of my memory is real, and how much is from that picture, though the bees aren’t in the picture, and I distinctly remember them as my rivals for access to the tulip.
My Corner of the Village 