The Flower words and stories of Black Tulips

Black tulip is one of the flower colors of Liliaceae. In early February 2005, it was cultivated by three students at Singapore Institute of Technology, commonly known as "Night Queen". It is one of the rare tulip varieties, and this color is still very rare in the market. Let's take a look at the flower language of black tulips.

The floral language of black tulips

Because the black tulip is purple and black, it has a sense of mystery, representing the symbol of mystery, weirdness and death. Flower words: unique leadership power, mystery, nobility, chivalry (or melancholy love, beautiful but sad love).

The origin of black tulips

Black tulips are native to the north and south coasts of the Mediterranean, Central Asia, Iran, Turkey and northeast China in the east.

The story of black tulips

In the last winter of the German occupation, the weather in the Netherlands was surprisingly cold and there was a shortage of food, and people were hungry and cold and began to eat small animals and other things that would not normally be thought of for import. It has been found that tulip bulbs are edible, like potatoes or onions.

For centuries, my mother's family, the van der Vandez family, was famous for its excellent skill in growing tulips, and many people in the village depended on their families for a living. The "van der Vandez" tulip bulbs they cultivated are exported overseas in large quantities. The family is famous for its reputation. But the war ruined it all.

In that hungry winter, my grandfather, Arnold, gave all his bulbs to the hungriest man in the village. All but a few unparalleled bulbs. For many years, my grandfather tried to cultivate black tulips. No florist had ever succeeded before him, and he was very close to success. Like a treasure, he guarded the tulip bulbs not to be stolen, not even his family. Because eating them would only be enough to give the family teeth, but it would ruin his chances of making a comeback and reviving the whole village after the war.

One day, the underground radio station announced that the war was over. People were jubilant. But a more difficult ordeal came when the German army, which had occupied our country for five years, began to retreat battalion by battalion. As they retreated, some soldiers fled to Germany while looting and looting along the road. Looking up, there was devastation everywhere. The Dutch are still living in dire straits.

My grandfather looked at his pale, weak children and thought it might be better to give his precious bulbs to the children than to fall into the hands of the looting German soldiers. After hours of painful thought, he picked up a shovel and went into the garden. He saw my mother there. At that time, my mother was only seven years old, flushed and excited: "Dad, I have to tell you something." Over her shoulder, my grandfather saw a group of drunken soldiers robbing along the road coming in the direction of his house. He told my mother to go back to the house and started desperately digging up his tulip bulbs. Again and again, all his shovels were empty. it was too late. Someone had already stolen them. Furious, my grandfather rushed into the street and shouted, "they stole my tulip bulbs!" Mother ran up to him crying and stopped him. Before she ran up to him, a German soldier raised his gun and fired at him. Although Germany has signed a surrender agreement, the curfew is still in effect. My grandfather's actions violated the curfew.

My grandfather survived and slowly recovered. He was finally able to leave the sick bed, but only stood at the window, looking at his garden without saying a word. strangely, his mother began to be silent, even though she was such a lively and cheerful child before the war.

Until one day, my grandfather noticed that something was sprouting under the broken bricks. He showed his mother the new green leaves. Mother was stupefied for a long time, then suddenly burst into tears hysterically. In intermittent sobs she told her grandfather that it was his black tulip bulb. My grandfather clasped his mother in his arms and listened to her story in amazement.