It’s been a while since I posted — I started this blog last August and only managed one entry. But today felt worth sharing. It was one of those days where movement, music, and soil all worked together to snap me out of the sludge that can build up in the mind.
I started early, and the garden pulled me straight in.
Morning in the Garden
After breakfast (plus my usual Creatine, Vitamin C, and Zinc), I headed out to prepare a spot in my long border for one of this season’s dahlia seedlings. The soil is on the clayey side, so I double-dug the area and worked in compost to improve structure. Normally I’d prefer Charles Dowding’s no-dig method, but time is tight — this season the border is doubling as a dahlia testing bed, so urgency wins out.
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| Preparing the new bed with compost before planting |
Back in October, I collected dahlia seeds from a mix of varieties:
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'Verrone’s Obsidian'
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'Bishop of Dover'
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'Bishop of York'
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'Tam Tam'
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'Moonshine'
They dried out on the patio all winter. In March, I soaked them in liquid seaweed for 24 hours, then sowed them in trays — some indoors on windowsills, others in coldframes. Now I’ve got about 20 young plants ready to go. Most of them are probably 'Verrone’s Obsidian' offspring (a real brute), though a few clearly carry the dark, purplish Bishop foliage.
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| A whole line-up of my dahlia seedlings — grown from seed and ready for planting |
Later this evening, I’ll plant the first one. I’m running low on Blood, Fish, and Bonemeal, so I’m considering alternatives like seaweed extract, chicken manure pellets, or comfrey tea.
As I worked, I listened to Carol Klein discuss planting schemes. Her advice on rhythm and structure is exactly the kind of language I want to bring to this border — repetition that feels deliberate, but broken up by strong focal plants. All of it should draw in pollinators. I want the whole space to move with color and buzzing life.
