So I promised a few more pictures of what I have been enjoying in my little apartment this last week. Here are a few of my lovely mystery tulip pictures.
They are still blooming which I am just amazed by. I don't know if you can see my one casualty, the smaller little striped tulip has not made it and I have no idea how to treat/prune/care for these things as they are bulbs and that's a weird thing to be. If you have any tips let me know, otherwise I'm going to hit up my grandma and google for some advice. My grandma knows absolutely everything about plants. She was always admiring or being sweet about whatever my mom was trying to grow (sorry mom, you know how I love you). I never had much interest in plants, I would save on occasion for these odd little pink plants that I would see at Lucky's (our old grocery store) but they always died and I was always sad about it. Oddly, a friend just gave me one of those pink ones and it's in my kitchen. "There's an irony there but I'm not drunk enough to figure it out" - a favorite quote from Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf - so please don't worry, I don't get drunk at 11 in the morning or to discover ironies.
The only time flowers meant something to me was when my dad would bring me roses for my birthdays. It was always special to get those roses from him because I knew that he hated them. Hated? Yes, and he hates them still. If you can imagine working for a mortuary where there are endless streams of flowers that you have to carry all about you would probably grow less fond of them too. My dad always said that the roses he brought me were recycled funeral flowers, I didn't care and now, I'm not so sure as they were always absolutely beautiful roses and I remember a few bows being tied on them that he certainly wouldn't have put there. . . hmmm! Jeff, we need to talk. It doesn't matter though, those birthday flowers were so special to me that I hung them upside down in my room - copying Glenn Close in Sarah Plan and Tall - and preserved them. I still display them in a vase in my room and I made the pleasant discovery this last year that they are perfect Halloween decorations. I still look at them and think of my darling father who lavished a ten year old girl with twelve long-stem red roses - I'll never forget that sweetness - it's a rare thing. It's amazing how happy flowers can make you, even a decade and a few years later. thank you dad (but we still need to talk).