There now. Let’s get back to gardening. To garden chores.
And to the delicious promise of summer flowers.
It’s a dahlia two parter this week. First off the story of the dahlias I have buried in pots in the ground.
If you follow closely (doubt that would be many of you) you would know that I grow my dahlias in buckets and I lifted them early last winter because they were frankly climbing out of the buckets and needed dividing.
I left them in the cellar. And realised that it was almost too warm in that cosy atmosphere.
So with holes drilled in the cheapest hardware buckets I could find, I set out releasing the tubers from their prison.
Then once I had my beauties divided and potted up, I buried them again.
All over the potager.
With the help of this. Another ten sacks.
My potager is frankly gorgeous. A March moment when you think, job done. Except of course it’s just begun. But I now have twice as many dahlias from my original stock:
Jesso Julie, Howie Mirella, Dark Spirit, Sam Hopkins, Chat Noir, Rip City. Those were the labels I found when I went about grubbing in the original pots.
There were more of course. But label-less. Fancy! Bad gardener. I think there is a Cafe au Lait – the big saucer sized pale pink one. But whatever bursts into life will be a fun discovery.
And because it’s not the sort of thing that will keep you in suspense for long (and I have a mo to write, unlike later this week) I’ll slide into the potting shed dahlias straight away.