Tulip time relics
It’s tulip time in Chicago.The daffy parrot tulips are full on, so it’s late tulip time. Looking for something in my photo library just now, I stumbled on this picture of silly tulips that used to pop up smack in the middle of the way back of the yard in Slaterville. Someone’s long ago flash of color in a grown-over flower bed I guess.
I kind of loved them, these loud and blowsy bulbs, mowed around them, let the leaves grow and die out on their own. Along with the blue and white violets and tiny grape hyacinths sprinkling out around them into the green, they were like our own spring ephemerals. Riotous and special.
No telling who planted them or how far back. Had the little house next door that had been lifted off its foundation and rolled over there once stood here? Was this the corner of a shed once, with no footprint left save this little strip of spring?
Now that we’re gone, too, I wonder what has taken hold from my old garden, which roots will outlast new owners with brown thumbs, lawn mowers, digging dogs, dry summers, and deer. I wonder if the planter of the red and yellow tulips ever looks back. Because I sure miss that patch of green, dammit.