Friday, July 20, 2012

Dahlias

Perhaps it is the accumulated wisdom of living many years that helps cement the knowledge.  Sometimes, you just realize that some things are never going to happen in this lifetime ...you need to move on...find peace with it.

I will never be able to grow dahlias like my mama did.



They were her favorite flower, and she watered, weeded, and wildly loved them everyday.  Her efforts produced enormous blooms on stalks that reached almost to her shoulders, blooms that caused traffic passing her house to slow down and admire them. Every visitor to her house was given an  tour of the flower beds to see the dahlias up close.




Mama's home church had a decoration day every year in late July.  Along with the homemade crepe-paper flowers, the plastic flowers, and the silk flowers, Mama always made fresh bouquets of dahlias to decorate the graves of her family.  They didn't last long, but they were appreciated by many before they succumbed to time and the July sun.


This year, it was late when I got the tubers in the ground, and the dahlia plants were still young when we had the ten days of hell on earth here.  The leaves were scorched and near death when the temperature got back to normal.  Several inches of rain resurrected them, and now I have a few blooms. They are beautiful, and I'm thankful for them. 

 They are not even close to my Mama's.