Tulip Talk

 

Rob Perez sits across from a vibrant, solid blue potted perennial herbaceous bulbiferous geophyte, more commonly known as a tulip.

ROB: Well, this is very unusual. It’s not every day I chat with a flower.

TULIP: Well, you should.

R: So, it’s true what they say, talking with plants helps them grow?

T: Certainly. We love to listen. It’s all nourishing. Well, except, have you ever heard people talk about golf?

R: Sadly. Yes, I have.

T: You want to watch a flower wilt, tell it stories about golf.

R: That rule might apply to more than just flowers.

T: We also enjoy music.

R: Any particular genre?

T: Well, I’m originally from the old country so–

R: –You mean the Netherlands?

T: No. Many of us are bred in the Netherlands, but the tulip is originally from the Ottoman Empire.

R: I didn’t know that.

T: So, I love anything with a good Turkish lute. It takes me right back to Constantinople.

R: How odd.

T: Isn’t it?

R: And you are a perennial?

T: Indeed. But I wish someone would tell that to the gardeners. Most treat us like annuals because we generally only bloom once. But we are more than just a pretty bulb. Tulips are the symbol of perfect love.

R: When you’re in bloom.

T: Yeah, but I can’t always be in bloom, can I?

R: Wait. Does that mean that even perfect love has an ebb and flow?

T: I don’t write the metaphors, man.

R: Fair enough. Do you feel any pressure to be perfect?

T: Well, let’s face it, time is short, not just for the tulip, but especially for the tulip. When you’re a tulip, you hit the ground running when spring rolls around and then wham-bam, you bloom, you wilt, you spread a few seeds, from soil to soil, as the expression goes.

R: I’m not familiar with that particular expression.

T: And the question is – what did it all mean?

R: It’s a big question.

T: I personally think, if you did it right, you bring a little bit of joy and light into someone’s life. But if you don’t nail it, you’re just a deer snack.

R: That makes sense. I… Look, there’s something I don’t want to ask, but we are in Minnesota, and, well, frankly, I’m getting all kinds of pressure to just ask. There’s a song… Tiptoe Through the Tulips. It was originally written in the 20s but became a kind of novelty sensation in the late 60s when Tiny Tim performed it. Care to comment?

T: No, I do not. But since everybody is fascinated… I’ll just say the late 60s was its own thing. There was a big counterculture movement and mind-altering substances were everywhere. Then Tiptoe through the Tulips by Tiny Tim showed up. I can’t shrug because I’m a tulip. But if I could shrug, this would be when I would shrug.

R: I think that’s well said. Thank you. Next question: Does it ever get boring being a tulip?

T: Not for one second. I spend my days following the sun, reaching for the sun. I literally worship that thing. My absolute favorite story is about Icarus, who built himself wings and becomes one with the sun.

R: I don’t think that’s exactly how the story goes.

T: Sometimes, I spend my days visiting with a bug or a bee. Nights more precarious. There are some fierce predators out there. Rabbits are stone-cold killers. Deer will mow you down. But the absolute worst way to go has to be death by slug. You don’t know what terror is until you’re face to face with a slug. The end is near – but not that near, if you catch my drift.

R: That sounds gruesome. On a lighter note, do you have any thoughts about the Tulip Festival in Holland?

T: The Dutch are superfans. I like that. But some say they go overboard. I mean, Tulip Time is a weeklong party for the tulip? Tulip trots and tulip dances and tulip carnivals and tulip markets and tulip quilt shows, and it just goes on. I don’t know, man. It’s just a lot.

R: Yes, it is. Well, I know your time is precious, so thank you for taking a moment to share some of your thoughts with us.

T: Well, people do talk to tulips, but so few take the time to listen. Thank you.