Viva La France
No time. I still need to do this, I still need to do that. Especially in spring, when everything bursts into bloom and visitors travel from far and wide to admire our daffodils, it often feels as though there simply aren’t enough hours in the day.
More often than not, the answer to any invitation or request is, “Sorry, no time — I have to work.” This year I decided to turn that around. At the start of spring I made a different promise to myself: no time for work, I have fun things to do.
After all, spring is such a beautiful season, and there’s no rule that says you have to enjoy it only in the Netherlands.
So the first thing I did was say yes to an invitation to give a talk about Dutch flower bulb growing in Mansfield, Missouri, in the United States. Our good customer, Baker Creek, hosts a spring flower festival each year at and around its beautiful grounds. A large tent serves as the festival’s gathering place, where speakers from all kinds of backgrounds give presentations over two days to anyone with an interest in gardening and flowers. They asked if I would like to give a talk as well.
“Fancy coming along, Karel? If we leave a week earlier, we could go and see the Grand Canyon before driving on to St. Louis. Nothing’s blooming here yet anyway.”
“Sure,” said Karel. “Sounds like fun.”
“Where should I book the flight to, Dad?”
“Las Vegas. We’ll start at the Bellagio.”
After watching three or four movies on the seat-back screen we suddenly found ourselves standing open-mouthed in front of the Bellagio's reception desk, staring at the enormous crowd, only to be told there was no room left at the inn. Nearly 4,000 rooms and every single one was occupied.
So off we shuffled to the neighbours, the Cosmopolitan. Another 3,000-plus rooms… also completely packed.
I should add that I never book ahead. If there’s absolutely nowhere to stay, I can always catch a few hours’ sleep in the car. It hasn’t happened very often though.
“Is there any chance we might still find a room somewhere on the Strip?” I asked the friendly Nepalese gentleman behind the reception desk at the Cosmopolitan.
“Hmm, not easy,” he replied. “Just a moment, let me see what I can do for you.”
About fifteen minutes later — not a problem as waiting is one of my favourite hobbies — we were greeted by a broad Nepalese smile and a room key. We had been given a room at the very end of the corridor on the 67th floor, with a view of, yes indeed, the Bellagio.
Good heavens, what a place Las Vegas is. What a crowd.
“We ain’t in Burgervlotbrug anymore, Karel!”
“No kidding, this is a whole different ball game.”
We spent a few hours wandering around, grabbed a burger and fries, got some sleep, and by seven the next morning we were driving out of town towards the great canyon keeping an eye out for a classic American diner.
“First, we eat,” my good friend Eric always says.
Karel and I must have repeated that to each other all morning, because in America you can drive for hours — no, for days — through nothing but spectacular scenery without seeing much else.
When we finally arrived at the great canyon, or as the Americans call it the Grand Canyon, we were once again left speechless with amazement. It is hard to comprehend just how immense and beautiful it really is. Truly phenomenal what Mother Nature can create and reveal to us.
After gazing into the canyon for a while and learning a little about how it was formed, you slowly begin to realise that most of the things we worry about really don’t matter all that much.
The canyon is estimated to have begun forming some 70 million years ago. Forgive me if I’m off by a few weeks — I wasn’t there to witness it myself.
Seventy million years. And here we are, getting worked up about what one person might do tomorrow or what another person did yesterday.
Before I wander too far down that philosophical road, I’d better continue the story. Next stop: Monument Valley, and after that it was time to set the cruise control and head for Mansfield. Three days of driving through almost nothing but magnificent wilderness and breathtaking landscapes. America was already great long before anyone felt the need to say so, and for someone from little Burgervlotbrug, it is a powerful reminder of just how vast and beautiful the world really is.
Once we arrived at Baker Creek, we spent a few wonderful days among people from all walks of life. The talk went well. I had told Karel that I would start by introducing myself, after which he could take over, introduce himself, and say a few words about our family and our business. While he was speaking, I quietly slipped into the audience, took a few photos, and sat back to watch and listen. After a while, Karel started casting the occasional glance in my direction — the kind of look that suggested he might appreciate me taking over again — so I decided to relieve him of his duties.
What I did notice, however, was that with just a little preparation, Karel is actually a much better speaker than I am.
After a few days immersed in a warm bath of hospitality and kindness it was time to head back to Holland. By then the daffodils were in full bloom and the first international visitors were already waiting for me to take them on a tour of the bulb growers.
I was genuinely surprised by how quickly the daffodils and tulips appeared this spring. It hadn’t been particularly warm but the almost nonstop sunshine certainly gave the season an early start. No complaints from me. We simply got to enjoy spring a little sooner. And before we knew it, the daffodils and tulips had already finished flowering.
“Is there anywhere we can still see daffodils growing in the wild?”
The question came from Johanna and John whom I had accompanied to Kazakhstan last year to see wild tulips. This time they wanted to go looking for wild daffodils. “Absolutely,” I replied. “A few hours south of Paris, on the high plateaus around the Puy de Dôme near Clermont-Ferrand, they are at their best around mid-May.”
“Do you have time to come with us?”
Of course. I simply had to tell everyone at the nursery that I had no time to work because I had fun things to do. Viva la France!
We’ve already returned, but those stories will have to wait until next week. The word count has already crept past a thousand and I should probably try to keep it under control — plenty of wonderful memories, though. If I start talking now about France and the endless seas of daffodils we saw there, there will be no stopping me. More next week about La Belle Epoque in France.
Finally, a quick housekeeping note: Monday, 25 May, is the last day to order summer-flowering bulbs. There is still plenty of beautiful choice available on our website and the weather forecast looks perfect for spending time in the garden. Planting now means you can enjoy a colourful display throughout the summer months.
Kind regards,
Carlos van der Veek
