Dahlias

The morning after the first hard frost at my place, the dahlia leaves were dark and drooping telling me it was time to lift them. As the tubers came up from the soil I noted the very different forms of growth.  Some were small, tight pudgy bundles and others were open, stiff, fat fingers.  Labels were attached to them in various ways as they went through a hosing-off process in the hope that I would be able to keep track of their colors come next spring.   

Today I will sort through the clumps and cut them apart so that a smaller piece of the tuber has at least one eye on the neck that goes up to a stem. Then they will sit in my sunroom waiting to be taken to my daughter’s root cellar where they will be stored over winter.  

At times during this involved process, my low back starts whining.  I bend backward and stretch, take a tea break, or go off and do something that involves other muscles and a different posture.  Bit by bit the job gets done.  All during this process of dismantling the dahlia plantings, I’m enjoying in my mind’s eye next year’s dahlias blooming in full exuberance and the many bouquets that will be created from them. This entire process is just one of many that I enjoy with my garden. They all offer me a connection to the earth’s natural systems and the way I sense light in the darkness.  This coming winter will pass and spring will come. 

Daksha Bauman