If you’ve never divided dahlias before and you think you’re going to run out there, dig ’em up, sort them in the garage, stick them in a box and then be nice and warm inside, sipping some wine and reading your book in an hour or two, you are sadly mistaken.

I had no idea what a job this was. I started in the front where the bulbs have done squat probably because the soil is completely dry, boiling hot in summer and a major catbox for the neighborhood. I dug those up in a flash and they emerged much as they’d gone into the ground.

Then I started on the back. omigod. Shouldn’t there be more warning to people? It was like a Stephen King novel where the dahlias took over the world. I think it will be four years in Spring since I put these in the ground. Maybe five. What if I waited a few more years? Are there abandoned farms from the olden days with dahlia bulb masses the size of Vermont?

Look at the size of this thing. (Actual not-Photoshopped photo. That’s our lawnmower in the background.)
Am I really supposed to wash all these things off and cut them apart and carefully put them away, with labels, for spring? I don’t want to. I’m already tired of the job and I barely made a dent in it. It was cold. And washing them made it colder.

Look how much I have left:
I wanted to have some to share. Now I’ll be paying people to take them. Begging them. If its sunny tomorrow I’ll put in another hour or so, maybe.

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