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!
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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.
Bertram's Blog 
April 11, 2025 at 3:11 pm
And your tulips ARE lovely! As for the ash seedlings, we just can’t control any aspect of mother nature, can we? We gardeners really are at her mercy. LOL.
It’s hard not to wish our yards looked as grand as others we admire, but in my case, my lack of mobility this past year has limited the amount of effort I can put into the yardwork. Lack of input means lack of output! I know there are some very dedicated gardeners in our neighbourhood who are producing beautifully orchestrated landscapes but I accept that my reality means ours will never look like theirs.
Our crocuses are finished now — they were done in by the recent rainstorm — and nothing else is blooming in the yard, so no pretty colours. But there’s lots of *green* growth as perennials start peeking through. I have about 6″ of growth on a dozen big clumps of hostas, peony shoots are showing, and a rose bush is beginning to leaf out, so there’s hope. This year I’m looking forward to summer colour, rather than spring. 🙂
April 12, 2025 at 6:03 am
A lovely thing about gardening is that there is always something to look forward to. And there are always surprises, some not so good, but sometimes they are wonderful. Best of luck with your summer color.
April 26, 2025 at 2:49 pm
Your tulips are beautiful! We have deer and they eat everything, but daffodils. This year we had two daffodils under our beautiful magnolia tree.
April 28, 2025 at 12:51 pm
Thank you!
I read that sprinkling crushed red pepper around plants keeps deer and rabbits from eating them. I need to plant daffodils! I don’t know why I haven’t.