The Hudson Valley's Affair with Tulips
by Karen Holtslag

Even as I sit here writing and gazing out of my window at a beautiful light, late winter snow, I eagerly await the harbingers of spring. This glorious Hudson River Valley is one of the natural beauty places of the earth, as spectacular as any I have encountered on my many journeys abroad. It is a land that carries traditions rooted in the culture of the first European settlers from the Netherlands. When Henry Hudson first explored the river in 1609, he was sailing for the Dutch East and West India Companies, hired to search out a more direct and less costly trade route to the Far East. Hudson's exploration opened the way for early settlement of the valley by the Dutch, who brought with them their culture, their religion and their passion for tulips.

The flower had arrived in Holland on merchant ships from the Middle East. The name tulip is a derivative of the Turkish word for turban, the shape of the closed bud of the flower. The constrained elegance of their shape and the vividness of their bright colors perhaps provided a needed contrast to the stolid Calvinist ways of the Dutch. For a people who disdained the frivolity of earthly delights, their enthusiasm for the tulip can only be described as a mania. In the 1630s it seized the conservative Dutch, and tulips became the most valuable commodity in the country.

Tulips grow from bulbs. Generally a yellow tulip gives yellow offspring. But occasionally a tulip created an offspring that would "break" the genetic dictate and flair a wild red flame up the center of a white petal, or produce a blossom that sported feathered edges on a variegated purple and yellow bloom. The randomness of these occurrences and the unexpected beauty of the new creation seized the imagination and stimulated the avarice of this nation of merchants and seafaring traders. Some of these whimsical and unexpected arrivals of a particularly rare and beautiful turn sold for the same amount of money as a grand house on the canals of Amsterdam. People who could not afford such an extravagant price for a flower would commission artists to paint a portrait of the coveted blossom. Ironically, it is now known that these "breaks" in the coloring of offspring were caused by a virus—which also accounted for the small size of the bulbs and the short life span of particular exquisite designs. Modern tulip growers are now able to protect their crop from disease, and the chance appearance of unexpected heavenly beauty is a rare occurrence. Although the frenzy of the 1630s eventually burnt itself out, the Dutch continued to cultivate tulips. When the Netherlanders set sail for the New World, they brought their beloved tulips with them.

I have had the great pleasure of seeing vast fields of vivid primary color, overseen by stately windmills in the tulip fields of Holland and I have seen their legacy in the tulip beds of the northern Hudson Valley. When I was 18 I had the honor of representing Albany and my Dutch heritage as the Albany Tulip Queen. Fort Orange, Albany's original name, was settled in the early 1600s at the site of Hudson's first landing place, the first and oldest Dutch settlement in the New World. In 1948 Erastus Corning, Mayor of Albany, passed a city ordinance naming the tulip the official flower of Albany. To commemorate and celebrate the city's rich heritage he created a festival of tulips. This year marks the 60th anniversary of the Albany Tulip Festival. Two hundred thousand tulip bulbs are planted in Washington Park to bloom during the festival, held in the second week of May: the park blazes in patches of pure color.

The Tulip Festival is a three day celebration that includes the scrubbing of State Street Hill (the Dutch have a tradition of immaculate cleanliness,) a kinderkermis (children's fair); a parade; a luncheon; a gala ball and the crowning of a Tulip Queen. As queen I was asked to appear at numerous functions, events and charity benefits. The Tulip Queen is an ambassador of good will for the City of Albany and brings a sense of grace and graciousness to important occasions.

In retrospect I can see the transformative effect my year as queen had on me. My experiences called forth aspects and qualities of myself that shaped the woman I have become. The year of being in the public eye gave me a sense of self-confidence and ease which has served me well in both my personal and professional life as a therapist and teacher. As a kind of guide for both inner and outer journeys, today I help people find their way through their obstacles to the life they want to lead—to the work of their hearts and to the joy and beauty that can always be found in a field of flowers.

The tulip is the quintessential flower, one of the first flowers children learn to draw. The simple profile of straight blade-like leaves in pairs and a single stem balancing a cup of primary color is irresistible to young artists. Tulips inhabit the gardens of stick houses in most kindergartners' pictures of home. Tulips are harbingers of spring. They cannot be grown in the tropics, for they need the cold of winter to bloom and grow successfully. They are a kind of "familiar" to the temperate climate dweller; a plant spirit that shares the same dark and cold, and then calls us forth from our winter caves with brilliant, jubilant color. From extravagant economic value to the appreciation expressed in the simple drawing of a child, the tulip's true worth can be found in the eye of the beholder.

Karen Holtslag, a native of Albany and former Tulip Queen, is an artist, educator, counselor and healer. She leads cross-cultural journeys as an offering to world peace.