Revisiting the birthplace of spontaneous joy.

There are few things in life that bring an instant smile to one’s face…. perhaps seeing a winning goal, a surprise birthday cake or scoring tickets to Hamilton. Blossoming tulips in springtime would be at the top of the list.

Denver is The City of Tulips. From Park Hill to Hill Top, Congress Park to City Park, Rivefront Park to the Highlands, there is an eruption of tulips in front yards, back yards, patches on the side, even alleyways. This time every year is the Year of the Tulip.

I remember the first time (twenty-odd years ago) I encountered Denver’s version of Tulipmania. New to Colorado, I was walking home from Wash Park and took a detour but got a little lost. (I quickly learned Coloradoans give directions like they have a built-in compass inside their brain. “Go north on Emerson, east on Exposition, south on Clarkson.” I was like “Huh?” I came from the take-a-right-left-right part of the country.)

As I stumbled through the neighborhood what I saw astonished me. Every block I walked down, every corner I turned at, there were tulips bursting from the ground, micro-explosions of neon yellow, fuschia, fire engine red and sultry purple.

The more I walked the more tulips I encountered. How could this be — this was supposed to be a big intimidating modern city. Yet this overt display of tulips was anything but intimidating… it was down-right welcoming.

Hmmph. Then this happened: I passed by an unassuming house on a side street and paid it no heed. Walking by I reflexively peered down the side...and what I saw stopped me in my tracks. There was before me a lazy river of defiantly blazing tulips, a riot of hues and textures of which I had never seen before. It was as if someone had declared their backyard to be a Tulip Sanctuary where tulips of every color, race, or creed would forever be free and wild.

I felt a weird fuzzy sensation inside. The sight of this big Western city running rampant with radiant tulips made me feel, well, all warm and squishy and life affirming…dare I say…could this be what spontaneous joy feels like?

A year or so after that floral epiphany my wife and young children moved to a new development being built on the old Lowry Air Force base. It wasn’t long before Lowry followed suit and joined the United Neighborhood of Tuliplandia, otherwise known as Denver.

Twenty years ago my wife and I arrived here. Twenty years is a long time, kids learn to drive and head to college, there are more funerals than weddings. Feeling nostalgic, last week I took my youngest daughter on a hunt to find the magnificent tulip forest that I stumbled upon decades ago. So much time has passed. Would the River of Tulips still be there?

We turned the corner and there it was. Once again a sonic blast of happiness rippled through the air.

The owner told us that the garden was over sixty years old.

A rose is a rose is a rose but only a wild tulip garden can ignite a spontaneous combustion of joy, mirth, and awe.

by Jay Solomon

About the author: Jay Solomon is an essayist, chef, cafe owner, youth sports coach, occasional gardener and owner of Jay’s Gourmet 2 Go. He lives in Denver. Visit his website at www.jaysgourmet2go.com.