She started out as an item on my to do list for this fall's garden.
My try something you haven't tried before list.
She had been on it for quite a while, but I just hadn't gotten around to buying her...planting her...believing in her.
You know how it is. You see a bloom, a fruit, a berry...
and you think 'I should try that ...it is so dramatic/lovely/fresh/unusual'...and then...for some reason...you don't do it.
Sometimes it's laziness, sometimes your timing is off.
Sometimes, you are feeling just so dejected about the weather or your garden...that you lose your green thumb confidence...and your willingness to experiment.
Then, your window of opportunity passes. And that thing is relegated to next year's list. Next year's possibilities.
She started out as a shriveled up brown clump in a plastic bag from Lowe's. A seemingly inauspicious beginning. A humble one.
She didn't even have a name.
But her temerity didn't dissuade me
and she made it into my basket, and more importantly,
into my garden.
Before I knew her, I had thought her type was big and brash and bold and, yes,
even a bit
But much to my surprise, she wasn't any of those things.
Brave, yes (as is any summer bloomer in an Oklahoma garden). But also sweet and delicate and feminine and amiable.
Ever so pleasant and polite and soft-spoken.
And this fall, she spoke to me...
whispered really, and said
"Thank you...ever so much...
for giving me a chance."
Labels: dahlias, fall, pink