With the first hint of cooler weather, I ventured out of doors for some garden clean-up time. Maybe I’m rushing the season, but one of my chores today was to plant a bag of three dozen tulip bulbs. This act is a always step of faith.
In the past, I’ve not had success with reoccurring blooms from bulbs. Especially tulips, I suspect they are a favorite snack of moles that consider my place a gourmet stop. I have to be satisfied with that first flush of bloom because seldom do they bloom a second year.
This year to break the cycle, I am planting all my tulips in large pots, safe out of the reach of any marauding critters looking for a snack.
When I plant flower bulbs, I receive double pleasure. First comes the initial planting, working with fertile soil to fill the waiting pot, nestling the bulb securely in position, then carefully sifting a covering layer of earth, finishing with a slow soak until the water runs out below signifying a thorough wetness.
The second round of joy comes when that first poke of green shoots breaks the surface after months of anticipation. With growing impatience, I check daily the slow growth as leaves slowly unfurl and a bud emerges atop a slender stalk that seems to lengthen every day. Since this is a bag of mixed colors, I have no idea what surprises will greet me when the petals eventually open. But whatever the resulting show of blooms, I don’t expect to be disappointed.
Not all of my efforts are rewarded with satisfaction. There have been times in my life when, despite my best efforts, things do not work out the way anticipated and I learned to live with disappointment. At the time, it seems like such a difficult lesson to learn.
They say there are two kinds of people—those who see the glass half-empty and those who view that same glass of water half-full. I tend toward the second type. Even in the midst of a grave disappointment, I look for the silver lining, that glimmer of hope that portends everything will work out eventually.
Heck! Why go through life looking at the dismal side of things? Isn’t this experience of living difficult enough without seeing it with dark glasses. Now…where did I put those rose-colored spectacles?