I Wonder about Tulips

by Jim Yerman

I wonder about tulips…how they somehow find a way
To grace us with their beauty before they slowly fade away.

If only people were more like tulips and could somehow find a way
To grace this world with beauty before they slowly fade away.

My tulip love (some may call it mania) came on slowly. Unlike the tulip craze that settled over the Dutch Republic in the 1630’s, my own relationship to the flower was one of awareness. I could recognize tulips, but I certainly didn’t love them. And I wouldn’t have sold my own home to buy a bunch of bulbs like several Dutch artisans did back in the day.

No, tulips were things I could take or leave. And if ever I did engage in floral theft, roses and gardenias were at the top of the list. Tulips weren’t even on it.

In college, my friend Nathan persuaded our book club to read The Black Tulip by Alexander Dumas. I wasn’t particularly into this book (sorry, Nathan), but I do remember the slow and steady care of the tulip gardener in it. One entire chapter is devoted to this man watching a pot for signs of the bulb sprouting. (There’s also a prison sentence, a villainous neighbor, and a gentle damsel who loves flowers. See, Nathan? Wasn’t my cup of tea, but I DO remember it!) That chapter about the bulb sprouting has stayed with me. There’s so much patience involved, and the tulip rewards the gardener by the end of it (Sorry if that’s too many spoilers).

Then, this past year, the book Floriography came into my life. Aside from being a gorgeous book, every flower is listed along with its meaning in the Victorian flower language. Sunflowers, for example, mean “false riches.” Pansies mean “you occupy my thoughts.” Jasmine means “cheerfulness.”

Tulips mean “I declare my love for you.”

All spring, I have carried this little realization with me. Whenever I see a tulip, I think, “Look at that declaration! I am loved!”

During Valentine’s, roses seem to get all the hype. I get it. There’s a lot of beauty to them. There are also a lot of thorns, and a whole host of metaphors for why that’s a lot like life and love. That’s not bad, and their popularity never stops me from admiring them.

But let me make an argument for tulips being romantic, too.

They’re simple. No thorns. They come up soft and expectant every spring without fail, even though one late frost may kill them. They are among the first signs of hope and new life. They grace the world with gentleness and humility. Love is like that: hopeful, gentle, and humble.

Consider this song a small bouquet of tulips today.