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I have always loved the aesthetics of tulips, those little cup-shaped emblems of spring, renewal, and, of course, the Netherlands.
The Netherlands has a rich iconography, from the windmills and clogs to the art — whether it’s Johannes Vermeer’s 1658 masterwork The Milkmaid, or Miffy, the minimalist white bunny created by Dutch artist/children’s book author Dick Bruna. I actually bought a Miffy dressed as Vermeer’s milkmaid from the gift shop at the Rijksmuseum which felt like the ultimate souvenir of my 48 hours in Amsterdam.
Miffy as Vermeer’s The Milkmaid (Jen Zoratti / Free Press)
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Then there’s the tulips. Tulips are synonymous with the Netherlands, despite not being a native species but rather a coveted 17th-century import from the Ottoman Empire that ushered in “tulip mania,” which is now a business phrase to describe large economic bubbles and bursts.
So, perhaps not surprisingly, “see tulips in the Netherlands” has long been on my bucket list. And, a couple weeks ago, I was able to check that item off.
Keukenhof flower garden (Jen Zoratti / Free Press)
In mid-April — which is peak tulip season — I made the trip to Keukenhof, which is one of the largest flower gardens in the world. It’s about a 35-minute bus ride from Amsterdam, and is only open for eight short glorious weeks when the tulips burst into bloom.
Listen, I understand why Dutch people in the 1600s went wild for these things. The way these tulips made me gasp. A riot of colour, in more varieties than I knew existed. The outlying tulip fields were so densely saturated that it looked as though giant flags were spread out on the ground.
Keukenhof flower garden (Jen Zoratti / Free Press)
There was just one issue: the weather was terrible. Like, comically, tragically terrible. Constant, pouring rain accompanied by a cold, whipping wind that turned umbrellas inside out. Everyone at the gardens that day was commiserating; we were all in something together.
This wasn’t how I imagined it. I imagined wearing an adorable outfit and taking an obnoxious amount of photos of myself biking, Dutchly, amongst the beautiful tulips.
Instead, my mascara was running, my hair was wild, and I was bundled into a shapeless green rain jacket. The final indignity: I tried to take a cute photo posed behind a wheelbarrow and it just looked like I work there.
Keukenhof flower garden (Jen Zoratti / Free Press)
And this, Nexties, is the stress of having bucket-list items, especially bucket-list items that involve expense and travel. I don’t know when — or if — I’ll ever be back to Keukenhof. There is a certain level of “this is it, now or never” that comes with these experiences, which puts undue pressure on those experiences to be perfect.
But, you know what? I was happy that day. Core memories were still made. And, as the Dutch man who loaded us sodden tourists onto the bus said with a shrug, “Oh well, the tulips will be happy.”
The next day, after throwing elbows to get a closer look at The Milkmaid — which seems to be the Rijksmuseum’s Mona Lisa in terms of drawing a crowd and is, indeed, stunning — I went to explore some paintings from one of my favourite art movements, Dutch still life.
Vermeer’s The Milkmaid (Jen Zoratti / Free Press)
Look closely at the lush bowls of fruit or the insouciant bouquets of flowers and you’ll notice there’s always a bit of death in a Dutch still life. Decay or rot in the form of wilting petals, moldering citrus peels, or, in the not-so-subtle case of 1634 painting by Jacob Marrel, a full-on dead frog. As a product of the Dutch Golden Age, Marrel specialized in “portraits” of tulips in various stages of bloom; he was a fan, too.
These still lifes will make you consider your mortality, the temporary nature of life and beauty. The tulips will wither and die, and so will we. (Incidentally, “the tulips will wither and die, and so will we,” sounds like it could be a Dutch expression.)
So, we try to capture these fleeting experiences, these fleeting moments of life and beauty — with oil paint or iPhone photo — so we can preserve them somehow. And when I look at my many photos of Keukenhof, all I see are the happy tulips and I remember how pleased I was to just be there, in that moment, with one of my oldest friends. All I see is life.
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