As is traditional for the month of May in Chicago, the tulips are in full bloom up and down Michigan Avenue. They are a gorgeous metaphor for summer in this city, in my mind.
You anticipate their arrival for months, waiting as the snow melts, the landscapers prepare the beds, the sun warms the frigid pavement and the bulbs are planted.
When the do arrive, they burst onto the scene with a delightful vengence, causing tourists and Chicagoans alike to proclaim their beauty, wear silly shorts and Cubs hats, capture their wide range of colors on film, soak in as much time outdoors as they can and revel in their brilliance.
They don't stick around for long, however, so you best enjoy them while they last. Milk their presence here as much as you can. Treasure the days that are full of vibrant color, long hours of sunlight and the abundance of leisurely outdoor activities.
Toward the end of their time, the tulips begin to wilt, sway in the wind and sag towards the ground, bowing down to the inevitable reality that is their demise. The calendar doesn't lie, despite our every effort to delay the reality of the seasonal change. The expense of having planted them is questioned, as the time they were here was so brief. But deep in your heart, you know it was worth it.
And, then they're gone.
Sadly, and yet patiently, you must wait a full year to experience their glory yet again. But the anticipation is sweet, the countdown is boisterous and the sheer fact of their existence in the city makes it all worthwhile.
If only summer arrived in May along with the gorgeous flowers. Can a landscape crew get on that, please?
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