There are some plants I grow without thinking: plants that return perennially, shrubs which form a backdrop, and plants that I no longer see. Like a pair of failing old boots sitting by the back door, the latter are there because they always have been and I don’t question their value as I should. What if I got something more practical? Something that fit better? A happier plant in that site, with that specific light? In fall here when the rains begin we have a window of re-organization to move and remove. To try new things in new places. We rally as stems become stalks, before the weather is too raw to take up a shovel, before soil becomes mud. I got thinking about all this because an old dahlia has over-wintered in my garden since I rescued it from a neighbour’s years ago. You want to give me a plasticky-pink dahlia with a white center? Sure, I’ll try it. And perhaps because it only hopped a fence, it’s the happiest dahlia I have. I don’t treat it well because I don’t see it until September. Unfashionable, almost obnoxiously pink, it tirelessly pumps out blooms in cold rain. And so it stays, not dug or coddled in winter, not fed in summer, and I am grateful for having forgotten it again and again.
Garden gathered urn for @yoursmus this week. ‘Chilson’s Pride’ dahlia, gladioli, pink Cynoglossum, china asters, hops, larkspur, scented geranium, three types of Nictotiana, the smaller of the two lime ones “Lemon Tree’ which I love. The dinnerplate dahlia is Otto’s Thrill (I believe) and Clematis terniflora.