The waiting is its own kind of ritual. Two weeks before we flew, my partner started checking a bloom tracker on her phone every morning the way other people check the weather, muttering about a cold snap that might push the color back, or a warm week that might bring it early and ruin our timing entirely. I did not understand yet what she already knew from a lifetime of springs in this country, that a tulip field is not a monument. It is a mood,…
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