Dahlias

I change into fresh garden clothes and head back to the garden.  The cleomes have revived and are ready to plant.  A dozen dahlias are the final addition to the annual garden.  This national flower of Mexico is the stuff of legend. Spanish conquistadors brought botanists with them on their 16th century military expeditions.  Dahlia tubers interested these practical men as a possible source of food.  Aztecs, on the other hand, appreciated the hollow, water-filled stems.  Since wild dahlias often grow to 20 feet, a considerable amount of water is stored in its stems ready for parched travelers.  One cold October day, I forgot this story and drenched my jeans as I cut and cleared the dahlia beds.

In 1872, a box of mexican dahlias arrived in Holland.  Only one tuber survived, but it was a stunner.  The brilliant red bloom intrigued plant breeders.  They took up the challenge to improve on the import and continue their work to this day. 

 The American Dahlia Society now recognizes 15 different colors and color combinations; 18 different forms, from “miniature ball” to “incurved cactus”; and nine different sizes, from two inches to over ten inches in diameter. 

I grow my dahlias in large wire tomato cages.  By late August their bed will be as thick as a hedge and covered with color.  My favorite dahlia is blousy and orange.  As you will hear later, I am not its only admirer.

By evening, my right wrist aches, knees and hips resent being asked to move, my waist has shrunk back into its waistband.  The Velcro strip no longer heaves apart in an angry ode to an overfed winter.  For another year, I have met the planting deadline at the end of May.  After a long, solitary month of work, perennial beds are cleaned and weeded, annual beds prepared for a new season.  Over 400 baby plants, 70 calla roots, and a dozen dahlias are tucked in and ready to grow.  It is time to hand over the real work of summer to the garden itself.