Planting Bulbs

Planting bulbs is always an act of faith and optimism. Last fall, I was out there, in the chill, with a long winter ahead of me, sticking something in the ground to be frozen and thawed repeatedly. It seems so unlikely to work even without the threat of squirrels digging up tasty tulips for a snack. In the middle of my fall bulb planting, it started raining. The kids and I kept at it. The rain wasn’t too hard. Then the rain turned to hail, tiny pellets of ice. I figured I should take the kids in. And I never made it back to bulb planting. 

Photo from Mari Potter@maripotter on Unsplash.

Fast forward four months.

Last weekend, we took inventory. The tulips I planted last fall are just coming up. The squirrels did not get them. I have a fenced in yard without deer, and apparently the local woodchuck isn’t as interested in destroying my tulips as it is in destroying everything else I try to grow (including zinnias and marigolds! It even munched off some hot peppers last summer. Unless that was a spice loving rabbit). Success, of a kind, has already taken place.

My optimism is being rewarded. Some of the edges of the green leaves poking up are tinged with red. Are those the red tulips? Some are curled, others smooth. Even the ones planted in somewhat questionable areas seem to be doing well.

So I did something even more outrageously optimistic: I planted the rest of my bulbs. Not the shriveled up ones, but the ones with weight and in some cases a bit of a shoot coming up. 

It felt like the right thing to do, and even if none of them ever bloom, it was worth it.