They didn't reach European gardens until the 18th century, coming first to Spain and France (Empress Josephine supposedly planted the first tubers herself) and finally to London. People have strong feelings about them, one way or the other. English novelist Robert Surtees in Handly Cross (1843) wrote: Hurrah! It is frost! The dahlias are all dead!Very funny. I was reading in A Contemplation Upon Flowers, that in the language of flowers a single dahlia showed good taste, but a collection indicated "instability." This probably refers to the fussiness of trying to grow them in cool climates. Well, I don't fuss much with mine. I have several beauties like this pink one that stay in the ground all winter and come back each year (so far.) The white one below is a new kid on the block, and has yet to prove her hardiness.
In our part of town, lady gardeners sometimes grow "dinner plate" dahlias in the front yard, staked in rows like soldiers, but I like these medium sized "ball" varieties mixed in with other flowers.
In a poem called "Frost To-Night" Edith Matilda Thomas remembers picking the dahlias on the last night of the season. It brings to mind her feelings in old age-- sadness, beauty and anticipation. Here's the last stanza:In my garden of Life, with its all-late flowers
I heed a Voice in the shrinking hours:
'Frost tonight-- so clear and dead still...'
Half sad, half proud, my arms I fill.
I am also fond of dahlias. Ever see the noir film "The Blue Dahlia"? As I understand it there really is no such color of dahlia.
ReplyDeleteThe rellenos sounded oh so wonderful; I could almost taste them. I wish Mrs. T could take spicy food.
Your granola likewise sounds yummy. But I'll take pie at breakfast anytime. As it is, I eat my gruel - oatmeal&wheatbran - six days a week; keeps my system flowing.
Yes, I do know that movie, based on a real life gruesome murder. Like the elusive blue rose, they haven't been able to make a true black dahlia yet, although Arabian Nights gets pretty dark...
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