One especially difficult afternoon I splurged on a bunch of dark red tulips, the young flowers still pale and tight.
Over the next few days, as their color deepened and petals opened, I would stick my face into the middle of the bouquet, close my eyes, and breath in that sweet, bright fragrance of springtime and hope. The simple happiness of those moments, lost in the tulips, somehow reassured me that life would get better.
And it did.
So every year on my birthday a fistful of tulips makes its way into my home, and on to my table, in gratitude and memory of a promise fulfilled.
Because of tax season and this week's audit (concluded today, thank you very much!), I'm one of the last participants in Jane's Flowers in the House , a celebration of flowers in households all over the world....