Admit it: you think of the tulip as a graceful ballerina in a pink tutu. You couldn't be more mistaken: she is a mack truck, full of diesel and antifreeze, spring-loaded to plow through distances of semi-frozen terrain several lengths its size.

What is the tulip's strategy and why? And how does she achieve this supernatural feat of being the first delicate beauty to emerge under tough and dangerous conditions, when so few dare to bare their petals?

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