A Day in the Life of a Tulip Farmer in Holland
5:00 AM
The soft chime of my alarm pulls me from sleep before dawn. I stretch, already smelling the damp earth in my imagination. The tulip fields, my life's work, are waiting. My wife, Anika, is already in the kitchen brewing coffee. The scent mingles with the slight tang of soil still lingering on my jacket from yesterday.
I pull on my work clothes—sturdy boots, a thick sweater, and a waterproof jacket. Spring mornings are chilly here in Holland, and the dew settles heavily on the flowers. As I sip my coffee, I mentally map the tasks for the day: monitoring bloom progress, inspecting for pests, and ensuring our orders for export are on track. It’s tulip season—our busiest and most beautiful time of year.
6:00 AM
I step outside and am greeted by the sight of our fields, stretching endlessly toward the horizon. Rows of red, yellow, pink, and purple tulips are just beginning to stir under the dawn light. The sight still takes my breath away, even after 15 years of farming. I hop on my bicycle to make the short ride to the main field. Cycling is a necessity here in the flat Dutch countryside, where our canals crisscross the land like veins.
6:30 AM
First stop: the greenhouse. This is where we propagate new tulip varieties and experiment with hybrids. Today, I check on the seedlings we started a few months ago. A promising new blend of pale peach with a streak of crimson has emerged beautifully. I jot down notes for the breeder we work with; these could be next season’s stars.
The rest of the morning is spent in the fields. The tulips are at their peak, their petals vivid and glowing in the golden light. I inspect for signs of disease—fusarium wilt is the enemy we always keep at bay. Thankfully, this year looks healthy. My workers and I harvest a batch of tulips destined for markets in Amsterdam and beyond. Each bloom is handled with care to avoid bruising the delicate petals.
10:00 AM
Back at the barn, the tulips are sorted and bundled. Today’s shipment includes 2,000 stems of Triumph tulips and 1,500 stems of the popular Parrot variety. The air smells sweet with their scent. My youngest worker, Johan, is learning the craft, and I show him how to grade the tulips based on stem length and flower quality. It’s meticulous work, but every tulip must be perfect for our customers.
12:30 PM
Lunch is a simple affair—thick slices of bread with cheese and pickles, eaten at a small table in the barn. The workers and I share stories and laughter, though our eyes keep darting toward the fields. There’s still so much to do, but these moments of camaraderie keep us grounded.
1:00 PM
I hop back on my bike and head to the canal where crates of tulips are loaded onto small boats. These canals have been our lifelines for centuries, carrying goods to the larger rivers and eventually to ports across Europe. Watching the boats glide away feels like watching a piece of my heart float toward the world.
2:00 PM
The rest of the afternoon is spent preparing for the festival. Tomorrow, tourists from across the globe will flood our village for the tulip parade. We’ve planned elaborate displays—floral floats that tell stories through thousands of blossoms. I work with the decorators, ensuring the blooms are fresh and vibrant. The float I’m supervising features a windmill made entirely of tulips, and it’s coming together beautifully.
5:30 PM
Back in the fields, I take a moment alone to simply walk among the rows. The low sun bathes the tulips in warm, golden light, and the quiet hum of bees fills the air. This is why I do what I do. Farming tulips is not just a livelihood; it’s a legacy, a connection to the land and the rhythm of the seasons. I feel immense gratitude for the privilege of tending this beauty.
7:00 PM
Dinner is waiting when I return home—stamppot and smoked sausage, a Dutch classic. Anika and I eat together, discussing the day and planning for tomorrow. She handles the business side of our farm, coordinating with buyers and managing our online presence. Without her, I’d be lost in paperwork.
9:00 PM
As darkness settles, I take one last look at the fields. The tulips seem to glow under the moonlight, their colors muted but still magical. I know I’ll dream of them tonight.
The life of a tulip farmer is hard work, but it’s also deeply rewarding. Every bloom that opens feels like a triumph, a gift from the earth. And tomorrow, when visitors marvel at the fields or a florist arranges one of my tulips in a vase far away, I’ll know that this small corner of Holland has touched the world.
