TRYING TO IMPRESS
As I sat in front of the blank screen of my computer on a grey January
afternoon I wondered how I could impress the editor of the Amateur Gardener
magazine. Not that I knew the editor, indeed I didn’t even know if the editor
was a man or a woman, but I had a young lady called Tamsin who worked for the
magazine calling the following Monday afternoon, and she was coming to finish a
story about our garden that she’d started back in September last. In my own
twisted way I’d imagine that having her as a captive audience, I’d be able to
write an article about a passion of mine called Dahlias, and expect her to
except it at the drop of a gardener’s Wellington boot, and show it to the
editor. The idea was to make a few shillings writing for a magazine to prop up
our diminishing nest egg, or at least get enough to pay for my monthly Broadband
expenses. How was I to know most magazines are written by a small band of in
house hacks that have nearly always had a University education, and have not
spent their childhood like me down a London air raid shelter avoiding the
presents that Hitler and his cronies sent across the channel. Undaunted I
carried on, after all I knew my subject, I should do I’ve been growing them for
half my life time, but where to start was more to the point. Okay I thought,
what’s the most impressive thing about the dahlia? It has to be it’s ability to
out rank every other species in the garden, when it comes to colour, and also
flower power, they’re much used words these days, but believe me the dahlia is a
past master of that show garden `Must have’ called “Flowering Ability”’ There
was another thing that it was noted for as well, and I denied I’d ever had such
thoughts, it was also the beloved food of the garden slug and snail. I dismissed
this as quickly as I’d thought of it, and made myself believe that Hosta's were a
far better candidate. Then suddenly I had this bright idea, well it was a grey
day, and seemed to be getting greyer as each word revealed the plot. Maybe, as
the subject originated from a bright and colourful immigrant from Central America I should
tell the editor this, well he or she might not know this? They probably did, and
it wouldn’t impress them one jot, no the idea had to be better than that for my
first article to such an important person as an editor. I know, photographs to
emphasize the brilliance of the flower, but what group would impress him or her
the most? Should it be the giants with flowers as big as `Dinner Plates’ or the
humble Pompon, named by the German’s long ago after the bobbles on a French
sailor’s hat? I come to the conclusion that what ever I used would be okay as
long as the photograph was bright and cheerful, and did the dahlia credit. Then
it hit me like a sack of Growmore, I’ll put a couple of my home bred dahlias in
the article, not only would they be home bred, but I’d pick the most impressive
two, that ever graced my garden. Now when I say garden I could be accused of
using the wrong word, patch would be a nearer description because since getting
involved with the breeding as well as the growing of this magnificent
flower, the back garden resembles a nursery instead of a typical English garden,
but I digress.
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| Charlie Dimmock. | Bournemouth Belle. | Littledown Tango. |
To date a dahlia named Bournemouth Belle which was sent to
America to make its fortune, and ended up winning the Lynn B Dudley Medal, and
another with one of the most talked about names in gardening circles called
Charlie Dimmock are the best dahlias I’ve bred so far. I did have one other
accolade bestowed on me, but to tell the truth this was bought about by some one
else. The John Brown medal I received from the joint committee of the National
Dahlia Society, and the Royal Horticultural Society should be given back,
because I didn’t have any part in the conception of the bedding variety called
Littledown Tango, no it was our busy friend Mr. Bumble. All I did was to save
the seed, which is as far removed from hand pollinating as breeding rabbits for
the pot is to poaching. The variety that the seed come from was a cultivar
called Ellen Huston which was, and still is a credit to its raiser, but as
far as I know this could have also been created by Mr. Bumble.
Before I close I’d like to tell you how essential it is to place your new
creations into other capable hands. At the end of July, in the year I sent
Bournemouth Belle to the Big Apple I was very engrossed assessing a particular
good new seedling and inadvertently forgot that where this particular batch of
seedlings were growing the ground was terraced, and obviously at different
levels. Such was my excitement at seeing a possible world beater (they are all
of that nature when first assessed) I forgot how precariously I was placed, and
before I could stop myself I went crashing down on top of five beautiful plants
of, you’ve guessed it Bournemouth Belle.
Picking myself up and assessing the damage, not to me but the plants I cleared
the area of broken stems and canes in dismay. These five plants never did
recover sufficiently to make anything like a storable tuber as the resultant
shoots produced were of a soft nature, and it was the middle of August before
they started to emerge. Fortunately in America a certain John Theirmann from
Wisconsin was being more helpful, and instead of destroying he was creating new
stock for the following year.
He went on to help Bournemouth Belle win that coveted medal two years late with
all the hard work that entails. So surely the moral in all this is “Spread
what you have as far a field as you can” because you sometimes need more than
your own ability to produce the goods, and preserve what you’ve created.
I would imagine what I’ve written so far would possible be enough to satisfy any
editor, or at least give him or her chance to see my ability or lack of it. So I
will bid this page good bye until next time, and I’ll see you at the trials or
maybe in a gardening magazine one day perhaps?