5,000 bulbs in the ground will become 5,000 tulips we’ll harvest in the spring. Farming is a long game of often invisible work.

Our work as the growers is obvious—we dig and squat and bend and hoist a million times—but the other work of a farm, the growing that happens to a seed itself, isn’t always apparent.

Plants work quietly. They do it underground, in the dark, without thought for recognition or reward. While I worry about whether I’m doing enough and if we’ll be okay, they just keep growing. It’s the only thing they’re here to do.

Flooding, wind, sunshine or cold—if it doesn’t kill them, they’ll stay the course. They grow whether or not anyone is watching or anyone cares. And I love them for it.

Tulips are my teachers. And they are totally worth the backache.