One Woman Revival

Over a month back I marked “Dahlia Tuber Sale” on my calendar, which had felt like unlocking a new level in manifesting my old lady destiny. It was hosted by the SF Dahlia Society in the County Fair Building, right next to the SF Botanical Garden (which is free for SF residents with proof of address like drivers license or utility bill). I had already procured two tubers in February along with soil and planter box, as detailed in my very first blogpost, but they had all just been sitting on my living room. Actually, the soil had not even left the trunk of my car. I decided the Tuber Sale would be the deadline to get those fellas in the ground in time for spring. Dahlias usually bloom from mid-summer through early fall. In the winter, the tubers needed to be dug up and stored in a dry place until they can be replanted the next year.

I arrived a few minutes before the sale opened and there was already a line. There was a good showing of salt and pepper hair queued up but also several millennial and possibly Gen Z gardeners getting in on the dahlia game. Standing on a rock as a soapbox, Dahlia Society President Erik Gaensler addressed the expectant crowd. He rattled off advice at the speed of an auctioneer, I tried to make mental notes on tips like planting tubers with the eye facing up and learned that dahlias were also available as cuttings which had already been potted. At 10 am exactly, with the clanging of a handbell, doors opened and dahlia aficionados rushed inwards. We were handed a cardboard tray and cautioned to not run into each other. Ahead of me were rows of frenzied horticulturists and I had to come up with a plan fast. Since I already had tubers, I focused on the cuttings. There was a range of options, some brought from homes and housed in milk carton boxes. One lone dahlia had even bloomed, like a guest arriving far too early to a party. 

I was a neophyte among the veterans. Everyone was polite but clearly on a mission, united by their quest for a perfect flower to add to their collection. While we all know the cautionary tale of tulip mania, apparently somewhat exaggerated, here hobbyists were buying cuttings at just $10 or $12 each. But it still had a thrill of a fire sale and also of a raffle where you did not know how your tuber or cutting may bloom. I inspected my stored tubers when I got back and was heartened to see that they had started to sprout. Feeling a spark of motivation, I dragged the soil from my car and filled up the planter box which I situated on my 3’ by 3’ ft balcony. I read a few more instructions online about depth of hole and also warnings to not water the tubers until the shoots had already pushed through the surface. I had also got two dahlia cuttings from the sale as a Mother’s Day present which were fine to water because they had already taken root. Fun fact, those cuttings will form tubers of their own which will need to be dug up at the end of the year. More work for my mom. But also, symbolic of regrowing roots after being transplanted.

Surveying the new residents of my balcony, I hoped the tubers would make the planter box their home. I admired this hardy plant that could hibernate through the winter and bloom fresh each spring. And unlike the straight-laced begonia or cautious anemone (also from tubes) dahlias took bold risks in their shapes and patterns of their flowers. They were both kindred and aspirational to me, for now just tubers tucked away under the soil. Like ideas waiting to come to fruition.