Meanwhile in the back yard, the playpen is hopping! My dahlias are finally, finally, finally blooming, and with the explosion of color, some new babies are arriving as a result of last year's matchmaking program. It's been a long slog to this point, and so often it just felt like it was never going to happen this year, so in celebration I thought I'd share a little of what's going on back there.
To catch you up to speed, in case you're not a dahlia-geek, dahlia plants will come back true to their tubers, so you can dig up your plants each year, clean, divide, and store your tubers in order to get more of that exact flower next year. If you're growing from seed, however, there's no way of knowing exactly what you're in store for, even if you hand pollinate from specific plants, and protect your mother flower with little gossamer bags, you're still in for a surprise come next season when the seeds you sow become mature plants.
Last year was my first attempt, in earnest, to grow dahlias, and rather than white-knuckle the entire process (gasp, shock, I know!) I decided, at the end of the growing season to just let all of my flowers blow open, which allowed the winged pollinators to get busy (and buzzy) ... and let me tell you, they were living it up! I'd find these absolutely massive, pollen-covered bumble bees hopping from flower, to flower, to flower, only to pass out moments later in between the petals of my dinner plate dahlias. I mean, I was raised by a union man, so take those mandated breaks, baybee! In other parts of the garden, it was pure mayhem ... All I'm really allowed to say is, what happens in my raised garden beds, stays in my raised garden beds. I'm not trying to get stung, here.
When it came time to call it quits for the season, I clipped, labeled, dried, and collected like a good little girl. Only being able to know the mother plant was driving me a little bit crazy, of course ... I don't do well with suspense, but I have to admit part of the fun this year has been watching the fathers reveal themselves through the new flowers' attributes. Since almost all of my dahlias were grown from seed last year, I had a wildly diverse group of blooms occurring in the garden, which has come in extremely handy seeing as how I am not Maury Povich, and I also do not have a lie detector.
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This is the mother to the dahlia pictured at the top of the post. I know this for a fact, because I collected the seed directly from her flower's dried pod. Also, side note, I'm absolutely devastated that none of her tubers survived my storage method last year, and since she was grown at my place from seed, she's the only plant of her exact kind to ever exist, and she was one of my very, very favorites. I loved how wild, and wavy her petals were. Such. A. Loss. But I'm heartened to see one of her offspring turn out to be so lovely, and excited to experiment further with the rest of her seeds. Even though my photo can't begin to capture it all, the "baby" dahlia's petals are awash with purples, magentas, corals, and even diamond dusting. Yes. That's right, she's rocking natural glitter! However, she didn't get all of her traits from her mother...
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She owes her shape to her proud papa! Ok, ok but how can I be so certain that's he's definitely the father? Out of all of the 36 dahlia plants I grew last year, this was literally the only "pompon," or "ball" dahlia that bloomed in my entire garden, or frankly, within flying distance of it. There simply is no other candidate.
I have to say, I'm pleased with his performance, and was able to get some healthy tubers off of the original plant, so this little stud is going to become a staple in my gardens from now on, I think! The funny part is that it wasn't even one of the flowers I thought much of last year, it really had to grow on me, which it did. It turned out to be a pretty robust bush, and a prolific producer, but to be perfectly honest the only reason I kept it around long enough for it to be able to show off all of its wonderful characteristics is because my mother loves yellow, well, everything, and she has a particular soft spot for pompon dahlias (I remember her growing them at home from before I was even old enough to start school, and every time she sees one she gently rubs her thumb over the surface and remarks on how the petals remind her of mouse ears. Every single time.) so, I let it stay just for her, and like most other things ... Mother knows best.
xoxo
