And somewhere beneath all those feet of snow, those spring bulbs must be growing.

Gardening is a lot of patience, a lot of hope, for an uncertain reward. In some ways, it is the most honest of many modern individual pursuits. It is an uncertain balance between enjoying the immediate moment: the sunrise, the day lily; and the enjoyment of the potential future: the young tree, the gradual change of the seasons. It is also the past. The trees that have grown and died, the lawns that have risen and fallen.

I am currently reading a rather fun book on the history of tulips (and Tulipmania of course). It is interesting to consider the connection between an Ottoman emir some five hundred years ago, a Dutch merchant, and a gardener today. All hunting that perfect flower and that perfect land. That is a very human connection despite the very different people, very different times, and very different worlds.