This past spring, in a slight fervor of whimsy, I ordered some mixed dahlia seeds and started them. Now, dahlias don't grow true to seed, so you don't know what's going to bloom on your dahlia plants when you grow them from seed. That random surprise aspect is actually what sold me on starting the seeds in the first place. That and I wanted to be able to save my own dahlia tubers.
Well, the seed growing experiment was a success on multiple fronts! I was blessed with dahlias of all different kinds, from spiky alien looking blooms to double pink and peach striped center giants. It was just awesome!
But before you could say blow that pumpkin to bits with some Tannerite it was fall and the first hard freeze had smothered all annual plant life with its cold life-robbing frostiness. Hmm. That was rather dramatic.
Anyway, this past Friday was tuber digging day. The weather had warmed enough that digging was easy, and Friday was the day between two rather stout rain storms.
So you better bet I got my potato fork and dug me some tubers!
Dahlia tubers are pretty cool. They remind me of fingerling potato tubers who are trying to be cosmopolitan. You know, worldly tubers. They are sleek and a bit exotic looking, and if they wore clothes they would probably wear cashmere sweaters and hand made leather boots.
Dahlia tuber sociological classification attempts aside, let's just say I was super impressed with the tubers as I lifted them out of the ground. I also was a bit impressed with myself because I remembered my sharpie, pruners, and paper bags for the job.
The pruners were to clip the brown, slimy, dead plant matter off of the top of the tubers. The paper bags were to set each variety on to dry after they were cleaned, and the Sharpie was to label each bag so I knew what was what. It's almost like I was organized and stuff!
After I got all the tubers done, it was time to go to the barn and wash them. That was easier said than done. To do that task I had to cross through the 208 Toms territory. Our neighbors have done a heck of a job domesticating the four large wild Tom turkeys who hang around this neck of the woods. It's just that if they see you with anything in your hands or the wheelbarrow, well, they come running like a bunch of piranhas. It's a bit unnerving at times.
Thankfully my dog pack has my back. Those heathen Toms thought they would throw down on me as I rolled toward the barn with my tubers. They swelled up and flexed as I drew near, I trash talked them with my most lyrical intimidation flow, but it was my hound who came in clutch and saved me and my dahlia tubers from certain annihilation. That German Shepherd hound girl ain't nothing to mess with!
After my run in with the local hoodlums, I made it to the barn and proceeded to wash off all my dahlia tubers. They looked so pretty once free from debris!
I then sat the clean tubers on labeled paper bags. My labels were super scientific too. You know, like pink spider and yellow alien. They should have me classify new species I tell ya!
But for now, I am going to classify my favorite lounge position on the couch, I feel a nap coming on, and it's still a day or two before I can finish the dahlia tuber maneuver by packing the dahlias in sawdust and storing them properly for the winter. I have no doubts that will be an adventure as well.😁
And as most of the time, all of the images in this post were taken on the author's marked safe from the local turkey gang iPhone. The text divider image was made in Canva.