Everything Grows

In 1964, our family moved to the Wenatchee Valley. My dad, Tony DeRooy, had just been hired as the first Landcape Supervisor at Rocky Reach Dam. Prior to that, he had worked for the Great Northern Railroad as the third of only three (ever) Superintendents of Parks. He had followed in the footsteps of my grandfather, Arie DeRooy, who had the position from 1934 until his death at Many Glacier Lodge on August 8, 1951. Growing plants, flowers and children was their life work. Anyone who knew these men, as well as the women who have stood faithfully by (thanks, Mom!) recognized their passion. This blog will be concerned mainly with dahlia and garden thoughts, but will also discuss things that are happening in the beautiful valleys, plains and mountains that we know as North Central Washington.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Hello, Winter!

Yesterday, November 9, was the first 32 degree or lower morning that I have seen this season. This usually means that dahlias and their foliage will be droopy and blackened, signaling that it is time to cut, then dig. As I stepped out on the back deck to view my garden, I didn't see any of that "black death" that I usually look for before cutting. I decided to wait until later in the week to cut, just to give nature a little more time to do her demolition! However, about noon, little things that looked a lot like snowflakes started falling slowly from the sky. I watched for a while, but then they stopped, only to be followed by some seriously wet, white and heavy snowflakes that fell until nearly 4:00 pm! Due to the warmth of the ground, most of the snow melted when it landed, but we did manage to accumulate about 1/2 inch of the white stuff. Now, my garden looked downright pitiful, with the heads of the flowers sagging, and the leaves almost touching the ground. I realized that if I didn't start the fall ritual soon, I would be doing it with snowshoes on! So, this morning I went out with my loppers and started cutting down the stalks, and relocating the nametags from the stakes to the clumps. This is much more complicated than it sounds, because a lot of the names of the dahlias have faded so that I need to re-write them on the tags, and then untwist the wire, (fighting the stake for possession!) and re-attach the tags firmly so that they won't fall off when I dig in a few days. However, when this is done well, it makes for much easier storage and labeling, as well as knowing that what I share with other growers is what it says it is. I will dig in about a week, and after that, wash, dry, cut, separate, sort and put the babies to bed for the winter.....The best part of the day for me was when I started gathering the lopped stalks into my arms and stuffing them into the garbage bags for disposal. I was assailed with the unmistakable scent of fresh cut dahlias, a smell unlike any other. I love that smell, and it instantly takes me back to the dahlia gardens of my youth, when my dad was in charge. November 9 (yesterday) is the anniversary of his death, in 2006. Every year this day is one filled with thoughts and memories of him as well as a welling of thanksgiving for having had him in my life. He is sorely missed, but his presence is still very much with me. I know you're watching, Dad, so if I forget to do anything, please let me know, OK?

Since Dad has gone, I have come to depend a lot on a little book that I may have mentioned before: "Dahlias: A Monthly Guide", published by the Puget Sound Dahlia Association. Published in 2001 and edited by Brad Freeman, this booklet is absolutely invaluable - I know it didn't cost me much, and I'm sure copies are available through PSDA. I wouldn't want to be without it!

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