You might think that a town with a name like Orange City would have vast orchards of citrus trees, but you would be mistaken. So much for truth in advertising.

This isn’t terribly surprising given that Orange City is in northwestern Iowa, far from the citrus-growing region. But Orange City makes up for it with vast numbers of tulips.

The large number of bulb-based flowers in Orange City might cause you to think that the town is closely associated with Holland, and you would be correct. One out of two isn’t bad.

Orange City celebrates its Dutch heritage with their annual Tulip Festival, held every third weekend in May. My wife and I enjoy meeting new people and experiencing new things, so we opted to attend this year’s Festival.

It was a sweltering hot day, and we parked ourselves at a shady picnic table. Toots of music wafted on the breeze, prompting an investigative stroll.

Parked on the street beside a small museum sat a massive and ornate pipe organ that was mounted on a wooden wagon. I didn’t see what powered the musical monstrosity; for all I know, there was a guy inside who was furiously working a bellows.

I wandered into the museum and espied a Rube Goldberg-like device sitting in a corner amidst a drift of woodchips and sawdust. Several rows of carved wooden shoes were nearby, so it wasn’t difficult to deduce the machine’s purpose. I chatted with Jerry Dykstra, the guy who operates the contraption.

“We don’t know how old this thing is,” he said. “Our best guess is that it’s more than 100 years old. It’s really just a copy machine. It will carve anything you want if you have a template for it to follow.”

And here I’d thought that carving wooden shoes involved a chunk of lumber and a jackknife. So much for Dutch traditions!

Speaking of traditions, the nearby street was rife with large numbers of people who were decked out in old-fashioned Dutch apparel. I later learned that the style of clothing traditionally varied from region to region and even from town to town. Think of it as flying your team’s colors.

It appeared that the Dutch ladies had an enormous variety of dresses from which to choose. There was probably very little concern about running into somebody who was wearing the same outfit as yours.

I chatted with a lady named Amanda who sported a hat that was large enough to be classified as an umbrella. When I complemented her on her striking ensemble, she replied proudly, “I made it all myself, including the embroidered lace collar.”

Wow. You have to admire that level of dedication.

Anna Wedel and her husband, Nathan, and their three small children were wearing period garb. When I asked Anna about her getup — which included a brass wire frame that helped her parachute-like chapeau maintain its shape — she said, “This is the sort of dress that a Dutchwoman would have worn for everyday things such as housework or farm chores.”

In the photo I snapped of Anna, she appears quite authentic and traditional. That is, except for the iPhone she’s holding in her right hand.

That day’s parade began precisely at 1 p.m. A PA announcer said that the parade would be led by the Burgermeister. I had to Google that word, and it turned out that he is not the guy who’s in charge of the town’s beef patties.

Hizzoner was wearing traditional Burgermeister regalia. And like traditional mayors of yore, he kept tabs on things by consulting his iPhone.

Many of the Tulip Festival participants were wearing wooden shoes. It must have been difficult to sneak up on someone back in the day as the “clop, clop” of your shoes would have announced your approach an hour before you arrived.

I didn’t dare ask anyone but wondered if getting splinters in the toes is an issue.

The parade included scores of second- and third-grade schoolchildren who were wearing traditional Dutch togs and wooden clogs. The kids clopped down the street in a long line like a humungous millipede with very large and very noisy feet.

At one point the announcer described the traditional attire that represented a particular region of Holland and was being modeled by some local ladies. He mentioned that their outfits involved seven layers of clothing. It was 92°F on that baking, sun-blasted street. Those ladies must have felt like steamed pannenkoeken.

Sadly, there was dearth of tulip blossoms at Tulip Festival. A wicked wind the day before had stripped away many of the delicate petals.

Oh, well. I guess we’ll just have to go Dutch again next year.

— Jerry’s book, “Dear County Agent Guy,” can be found at www.workman.com and in bookstores nationwide.