my dad’s tulip bed: old roots, new blooms
When I see tulips blooming in my yard each spring, I’m instantly taken back to my childhood. My father’s hands, rough from years of work, would carefully plant those bulbs every fall, no matter how cold it got. He believed in doing things the old way—no fancy fertilizers, just patience and the right timing. Now, I watch my neighbors scrolling through gardening apps, ordering exotic hybrids, and setting up drip irrigation systems. Sometimes I wonder: are we losing something precious in our rush for perfection?
Here in the Midwest, tulips have always been a stubborn joy—pushing through late frosts, surviving squirrel raids, and brightening up even the grayest April. But lately, I hear debates at the local garden club. Some folks want to replace traditional beds with drought-resistant natives, arguing it’s better for the environment. Others, like me, feel a pang of loss at the thought of letting go of these family traditions.
There’s tension in our community: do we stick with the old ways that connect us to our parents and grandparents, or do we adapt to changing times and climates? I’ve seen neighbors clash over front yard rules—some want wild, pollinator-friendly gardens, while others prefer neat rows of classic tulips. Every spring, our street becomes a patchwork of memories and modernity, and I can’t help but feel both pride and uncertainty.
Maybe that’s what gardening is really about—finding beauty in the struggle between past and present, and letting each season teach us something new.
#tulips #familytradition #gardeningdebate #Gardening
