The Trouble with Dahlias

Fellow Ranter, Anne Wareham, has this to say about dahlias:

“Sigh. I gave up on dahlias when I got fed up of deadheading them. And constantly forgetting which was bud and which was defunct flower. (please don’t tell me) Never mind trying to keep them warm in winter. And you have one in a pot, then next year it wants five pots! They get huge.

This is all, of course, true.  And I still love dahlias. I am enchanted by fat, touchable blooms that fill your wide-open hand, and gradually reveal gradations of color as the growing season winds down. I am energized by the late summer energy they miraculously bring to a garden, and intrigued by the extraordinary range of flower and foliage available to the modern gardener.

And I find I also love them in other people’s gardens much better than my own. 

Beautiful Tabasco…

To me, the most sumptuous and sexy of dahlias are much like Newfoundland dogs – gorgeous, extraordinary beasts I admire, but never wish to groom, feed, or protect from my Mid-Atlantic summers.   I am clear and honest in my assessment of these creatures – why can’t I be honest about dahlias?

The Temptation

Instead, I lie to myself that I am going to try this one, or that one, as I walk through other people’s gardens in late summer and autumn and find myself charmed by a perfectly placed ‘Café Au Lait’ or an aptly named ‘Tabasco’. I search for a tag, or inquire of the resident gardener, and then scribble the name down hopefully and performatively — even as I note their large heavy heads, and the practically invisible staking holding them back from the disgrace of those heads face down in the mud.

David Howard embarrassing himself at the party, as usual.

Instagram doesn’t help gardeners like me struggling with Dahlia Cognitive Disconnect. In fact, it is more than partially responsible.  In recent years, dahlias have become the poster child for social media bouquets. They fill a vase like nothing else, and if a gardener has been even slightly particular in choosing color tones and varying size and shape, he or she can put together a perfect arrangement with little effort.

Or at least that’s what I tell myself. But those vase-fodder dahlias are much better suited for a cutting garden with grid support than in a display garden that simply needs support. Any. Support.

The Technique

In my heart I know that I haven’t the patience for dinner-plate or even dessert-plate dahlias. I am selfishly happy to admire the efforts of others — particularly in gardens that are well-suited to the conditions they love: evenly moist, organically rich soils blessed with abundant sunlight.  I have the soil, but not the sun – and I don’t have the minions to manicure them.  

If you are a gardener with such a garden — and such minions — how can you say no to that late season color?  I’ve just been visiting gardens in Normandy after a very difficult season of drought, and precious water that was strategically spared for dahlias in flower borders and containers more than paid for the investment of time and energy needed to tend them.

Cafe Au Lait at Giverny in August

If you live a zone warmer than my valley (Z6b), and don’t have ravenous voles in the winter, there is even more reason to love them, as you will probably avoid the task of lifting the tubers after the first frost definitively ends the magnificent autumn display.  A nice top dressing of mulch or compost will give them extra protection – just mark where they lie so spring shovels don’t create mayhem.

In colder climes, a few plunges with a garden fork should reveal the treasure of a tuber clump – and if your soil was good and the weather was generous, you may have quite a few more than you started with. 

My method for storing these clumps is easy — and lazy — but it works for me. First, removal of last year’s foliage; next, a wrap with an old towel (as humidity regulator); and finally, into a plastic garbage or Ziploc bag depending on size.  Those will overwinter in my frost-free garage with almost no care until they are ready to be potted up again in spring.

Dahlias that I grow in pots simply come into the garage and I take care that the soil does not become desiccated – a little water every four weeks or so seems to do the trick. No rough division or sharp knives at this point in the process – now is simply the time to sleep.

The Truce

If you are confused by my admission of care, considering my earlier protestations, I can explain. Though I have given up on classic Instagram beauties, I’ll never stop growing single dahlias – or more specifically, single dahlias that sport bronze foliage, such as Mystic® ‘Illusion’ or ‘Magenta Star’.  They are nearly as lovely out of bloom as in bloom, and skipping the deadheading won’t betray me as the lazy gardener I am.

Mystic® ‘Illusion’ — now out of patent and harder to find, but an absolute joy in the garden.

As I wrote in Tropical Plants and How to Love Them,  “Nearing the end of the seasonal party, Dahlia pour another drink and settle in.” That’s what they feel like — comfortable friends making life richer. Yes, one must choose one’s friends wisely, lest they fall over the couch, or wreck the carpet; but I have found over the years that dahlias with single blooms never outstay their welcome. -MW