Behind our farmhouse, by the pasture fence, just behind an old stone wall, Florence Walrath once had a small garden. It’s a nice spot for a garden, lots of sun, some shade, and an open field with a view behind it. I decide to resurrect her old garden, I have the gardening bug. This morning, at the Hubbard Hall Plant Exchange, I got the idea to fill this small garden with Dahlia’s, which I love, to make it mine, in her spirit and my taste. So I bought an armful of Dahlia bulbs (they aren’t hardy, they have to be dug up in the Fall and placed in our cold storage room for the winter) and brought them back to the farm. I’ll plant them tomorrow.

There are several different kinds of Dahlia’s there (I’m going back this morning to get some more), red and black and blue. I always get  twitchy at unsolicited warnings and advice, but sought-after-advice is something different and I like to do things right, so if there are any Dahlia lovers out there and on Facebook, I’d welcome some counseling before I plant my Dahlia garden. I’m excited.