The first book I ever checked out from the Amsterdam Public Library was an illustrated story on the tulip craze in Holland. When the first tulip made it into that country, hysteria ensued upon seeing the beautiful bloom that came from such a simple bulb. Fortunes were made and lost as cost for a single bulb reached insane heights. Poring over the pictures and the story, my love for books and flowers was born. Every time I see a tulip in bloom, I think back to that day in the library, to the way that beauty and words collided, the way art and nature entwined, and my heart aches a little for such a simple joy.

The tulips here were found in one of the smaller parks that somewhat secretly reside in the South End of Boston. Like a jewel waiting to be excavated, a bed of flowers, made somehow more beautiful by its semi-secret nature, is a gorgeous bit of whimsy. It is a treat to behold, discovered by a few lucky individuals who take the time to pause on their way, look deeper into their surroundings, and tread along a gravel-lined path off the beaten trail.

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