This morning when I walked outside to go to work, the tulips were all open and I could smell their lovely light fragrance on the breeze. I remembered them while thinking of a topic for a post, partly because being the first thing I see on my way out the door every morning in the spring, they help my mood by offering me a pleasant distraction.
I have planted them by the bunch over the years, with many of the bulbs made off with by squirrels and other hungry animals. I have rule of thumb when planting them, I buy about three times as many bulbs as I need; some for me, and the rest for the critters. One year, however, the critters were greedy and left me with only two tulip plants. So I have developed a strategy to keep them honest. I place the tulip bulbs I want to keep in the middle of a bunch of daffodil bulbs, which they don’t like, to keep more for myself.
As a memento of before I started planting way more than I need, I keep a tulip bulb I caught a squirrel trying to run off with one day on my desk. It has some little tooth marks on it – and it reminds me not to forget the daffodils. But then I feel some guilt for having snatched the little guy’s prize that he probably spent all day digging up. I should have let him have it.
I suppose I thought that writing about my tulips would help me chill and be mellow. But metaphors of the tulip bulb with tooth marks on it and the inflation targeting fiasco keep swirling around in my head.
This problem, the inflation targeting regime that just won’t die really bugs me. And I can think of nothing nice to say about anyone involved with it, or anyone who would try to negotiate with it.
The tulip-bulb-snatching has got to stop and someone has to stop it. If not now, when? If not me, who?