The final dahlia just started blooming this week. It’s definitely late, but was in a very hot and dry spot and was started from a tuber out of one of those bag one might pickup while actually shopping for bulbs. It’s lovely and it might end up the reason we expand our new drip system to that section of the garden.
Eight years ago, in the first month or two of having our house, I went to visit a wonderful lady in Edmonds who grew and sold dahlias. At the time, one of my favorite bouquets to buy in the Market were baseball-size globes of maroon. Solid, dark, maroon. So every dahlia I bought from her was maroon. I still love getting those bouquets, but over the years, either the dahlias I bought died, got moved, or finally just murdered as I grew to dislike the maroon color with other plants in the garden. As much as I love the maroon dahlias, I didn’t have much propensity to others and the whole business of staking them just struck me as too damn fussy.
I guess I am mellowing with age, content to be a fussy madame, and tentatively embracing massive showy dahlias.
I did part ways with a yellow dahlia, bright as the sun on a summer day and the size of a dinner plate, that spent most of the summer just turning mushy after face-planting in the slightest rain. But then I added to more, “too fill holes”. I think they might be keepers as they’re both where I can keep my eye on them while doing dishes.
I have always liked the dahlias with black foliage. In our redesigned front garden, we have this bright red single flower. I have noticed that the iPhone does not take good pictures of strong red or oranges. I wonder why?
This small dahlia is mixed into our perennial bed, which is currently an eye-bleeding mix of color at all times! And I’ve just rediscovered the joys of zinnias, so next year you’ll want sunglasses with ten feet of this bed. It’s going to be sick.
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