The Long Goodbye

The demise of our dahlias is imminent, and each morning we wake to check out the plants to see if they are black yet.My husband started bidding "farewell" to my dahlias a couple of weeks ago, when the irrigation district drained the ditches, and we had our sprinkler system "blown." I guess Gary thought that, even if the temperature didn't drop low enough to kill the plants, that the lack of water would. He was pleasantly surprised when he noticed that they did not, in fact, die, and even continued to grow, as long-closed buds opened up to the warm autumn afternoons. It got so he was remarking frequently on how big some of them were, or what bright colors they still showed. But then, he started worrying over the dead ones I have left on the plants, and he thought that the flowers might even have been dead when they opened up. He started saying "Some of your dahlias looks like they might be kind of sick....." I tried to explain that the "sick ones" are old, bloomed-out flowers, that I am leaving on the plant so they can be pollinized by some of the many bumblebees that I have been noticing in the last few weeks. I'm hoping to harvest some seeds that I can start next year, since I have discovered how much fun that can be. However, during this past week, I have been cutting some of the nicest blooms and bringing them in the house, so we can get some enjoyment out of them while they are still lively and bright. So now he is saying "I thought there was a big dahlia on that plant - what happened to it? It was so pretty..." That is when I call his attention to the bouquet that I have on the kitchen counter, by the sink, where I can see it as I do dishes. "Oh," he says...."do you really expect it to freeze soon?" I remind him that I depend on HIM to tell me when it is going to freeze, since weather-watching is a hobby of his. At any rate, I know it will be freezing soon, and even though I still have some pretty nice-looking flowers blooming, a closer look at my Vassio Meggos tells me that it looks a little bit stunted and not quite as well formed as it was during the "high season." But on Thursday, I got an unexpectedly pleasant surprise during this long season of "waiting for certain death." In a very offhanded way my husband commented "Maybe I'll plant a couple dahlias myself next year." Wow....That was a shocker! I never expected my husband to "come over to the dark side" of dahliamania! But it looks like the attraction of this amazing bloom has the power to reach the most intractable and unlikely of men, as I have witnessed throughout my lifetime as a "dahlia-child." As I have met dahlia growers and originators from all over the country, I find that men like this flower - I think it speaks to them in a language different than that which is spoken by roses, tulips and daffs, peonies and hydrangeas. The men who develop the cultivars, including my own father, his father, Dad's old friends Jess Cavender and Nick Gitts, people like Les Connell, Dick Williams and Bernie Wilson, Dick Ambrose, Bill (Ida) Bonneywell and his grandson, Richard Johnson, David (Leone) Smith, Bob (Terry) Schroeder and Brad (Rosemary) Freeman - and even our own John Ruud - have all succumbed to the siren song of this most alluring and diverse flower. So, bring on the winter - I look forward to the digging and cleaning, sorting and labeling, and gently putting these beautiful babies to bed until next April....The fun is just beginning when the frost blackens the green!