I planted sixty tulip bulbs last fall, and I watched them push broad green leaves through the soil, and I watched the buds form, and I watched them open, one by one.
Oh, but my garden was a glory this spring.
And for more than a month I'd go out and pick a handful, and they would sit on the kitchen windowsill, and they would glow in the sunlight, and it was spring.
Today I picked the last tulips from the garden.
It's in its summer guise already - the ferns are everywhere, and the rhododendrons are winding down their own show, and from now until fall I might have a stray peony that chooses to bloom this year, or maybe I'll sprinkle wildflower seeds over empty ground and see what comes up over the summer. But until the leaves start turning my garden is a riot of summer green.
And I've said goodbye to my tulips until next year. They're tucked away under ground, about to slip into their long summer sleep. I look forward to seeing them again next spring.