The dahlias brought back a lot of memories. My Mom, who passed away last summer, had a whole collection of them, ranging from bright white to dark purple and deep wine color; some of them must have exchanged genes because there were also multi-colored blooms... then there were the spiky ones, and the calmer, round-petaled flowers; the pom-poms and the flat ones.
Digging them out was one of the autumn routines; we would store them in the cellar, and then they would come out again in spring, planted in a new spot and hopeful for a new season of brilliant perfection.
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