The Thousand Square Meters Transformed Our Spring

There is one open area in our garden that we never keep the same from year to year. It is about one thousand square meters, a wide flat stretch that sits just a little lower than the rest of the land. 

The soil there stays cool longer, holds moisture well, and warms slowly in spring. My grandmother says it is the kind of ground that listens if you treat it right.

We use this space only for seasonal flowers. When one season ends, it rests. When the next one comes, it begins again.

Why We Chose Tulips This Spring

Last fall, we decided this entire area would be tulips. Not a small patch, all of it. It felt risky at the time, but sometimes the garden asks you to commit fully. 

Tulips do well here because our winters are cold enough and our springs are slow. They like that pause between frozen ground and warm days.

We planted everything by hand in late October. Each bulb went into the ground about six inches deep, spaced carefully so the stems would not crowd each other later. 

We marked the rows with thin wooden stakes, knowing snow would cover everything soon and hide our work completely.

Watching and Waiting

Through winter, there was nothing to see. Snow covered the area for weeks at a time. Ice came and went. The ground froze solid. More than once, I wondered if we had lost them.

In early spring, the first green tips appeared, thin and sharp, pushing through the soil like they knew exactly where to go.

After that, growth came slowly but steadily. Stems rose, leaves thickened and buds formed but stayed closed for what felt like a long time.

This year, spring moved at just the right pace. No sudden heat, no heavy storms. Cool nights and mild days. The kind of weather tulips wait for.

What It Looks Like Today

This morning, under the best weather we could hope for, the whole area opened at once.

Rows of tulips stretch across the field in clear sections. Deep red tulips that look heavy and solid. Soft pink ones that catch the light easily. Clean white blooms that calm everything around them. 

Bright yellows that warm the space without being too much. There are also dark purples that look almost black in shade.

We planted by color, not by type, letting each section feel complete on its own. When the wind moves through, the tulips sway together, not stiff, not fragile, just steady.

The Types Growing Here

We did not choose just one kind. Some tulips have simple, single blooms with strong straight stems. Others are double tulips, full of petals, heavier at the top, almost round when fully open. 

A few have soft fringed edges that catch dust and light. Some have subtle streaks of color, like someone brushed paint across the petals lightly.

They do not all bloom at the exact same moment, and that is part of the reason the field feels alive. 

Some are just opening. Some are at their peak. Some will wait another few days. It stretches the season just enough.

A Moment I Did Not Plan

While I was standing there today, my grandmother walked into the field slowly, careful where she stepped. 

She stopped near the center, bent slightly, and touched the side of one tulip with her fingers. She did not pick it. She did not straighten it. She just touched it.

After a moment, she said, “This is why we plant in the cold.”

I knew what she meant. All the work happens when nothing looks rewarding. The result comes later, when you almost forget what you put in the ground.