On the mistreatment of spring gardens

Yesterday, the grounds people at my university dug up the spring gardens. I arrived on campus to find a mob of gardeners, wielding shovels, digging up tulips roughly and chucking them into the back of a truck. Some of the tulips had begun to fade, but many were still colorful and pretty. The pansies hadn't even reached their peak. And by dumping tulips in the back of a truck, the grounds staff have prevented them from soaking up the sun, nourishing their roots, allowing them to grow back first thing next spring. And the next. And the next. When treated well, tulips give back beauty for years.

I'm always disappointed to see the spring garden treated so poorly in May.

This morning, I noticed that the summer garden has been planted. Where yesterday there were pansies and tulips, this morning there are geraniums and petunias. Last night, a cold front moved in, and the temperature dropped twenty degrees. Geraniums don't like that. The pansies would have been happy and beautiful even in the cold.

Me, I biked home in the pouring rain.

And I thought while I biked. I thought about how biking in the rain is more dangerous than biking on a dry road. Visibility is somewhat reduced, for me and the other traffic. Brakes can be slippery. Water falls in my eyes and beads on my glasses. But for all that, thought I, I was well prepared with rain jacket and waterproof trousers. I had an extra fleece jacket to keep me warm. In spite of the very small amount of increased danger, I knew I would be fine.

But that didn't prevent me from being disappointed. Sad, even. Wanting to curl in a ball and cry a little bit, even.

What could the spring gardens have done more? They were colorful, healthy, beautiful. Growing exactly as expected, blooming even longer than expected, because of the cooler weather this year. And yet they were dug up, because of some numbers on a calendar.

In July, the summer garden will have matured, and it will be beautiful and colorful. And with a head start, it will be healthier, stronger, better able to withstand the heat of the sun. And honestly, I know the spring garden wouldn't have looked nice into the heat of July. Surely the grounds people know this. They are thinking of July as they fling tulips into trucks.

But it still hurts to be a tulip.

And no, this isn't really a post about gardens.