I confess to being enamored of my tulips these days. I’ve been so smitten by these flowers, that I posted this photo on instagram and facebook.

I cringe a bit, worried that I might seem to be bragging. Since no particular skill of mine made this lovely tableau come about, I should probably feel safe in celebrating these spring bulbs. That’s the thrill of gardening — the plants themselves do the work. Their growth seems effortless and their beauty becomes a simple, tiny miracle.

I am also a bit awed that planting bulbs actually worked so well. I was certain, last fall, that the squirrells would eat all my bulbs and when I saw a few bulbs poking out of the soil in February, I was then sure they would freeze and be killed before spring.

Of course, all this beauty is ephemeral. To try and make the most of these tulips while they last, I cut a few stems (from a different spot) this morning to bring inside. And they make me smile with how very alive they are, opening in warmth of the morning sun. The time for tulips is short, but thrilling nonetheless.