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My daughter and I walked into our local supermarket the other day to be greeted by this happy scene:
The local dahlia society had set up a cheerful display of the most perfect blooms.
I was quickly informed by the enthusiastic growers, that these blooms were mere understudies to the main performance at their Annual Show which was to be held the following weekend.
Surely they were not telling me the truth. Could this really be the reserve list selection?!
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I received a thorough lesson on dahlia types, earnestly taught by an older lady whose passion for her blooms was evident by the sparkle in her eye as she spoke.
She spoke of pom-pom, and peony ...
... anemone, and cactus forms. Who knew?!
The blooms varied in size from tiny sweet things,
barely a half inch across ...
barely a half inch across ...
... to monster heads, wider than my handspan.
My teacher was evangelical in her horticultural enthusiasm, and I felt like gently patting her arm and assuring her, "It's OK, I get it ... I know the passion"!
But it was the perfect form of these flowers that left me gobsmacked. And while enormous credit goes to the growers, they are, for me, evidence of the creation of a higher being!
Have a blooming lovely week.
