A GREY COLD WINTERS DAY IN AUGUST 

Picture the scene; there I am so uncomfortable with the cold snap, I’ve even got my fleece on. It’s the third week in August and I’m back in winter garb. You might be right in thinking I looked smug. I’d got four flowers ready to pollinate earlier, you know stripped down to their bare essentials, and I’d just finished the deed. Smug wasn’t really the word I was looking for, satisfied was more like it. I don’t mind admitting I’d prayed, you know really prayed at that moment that I’d have more success in getting the big ones to mate. I didn’t say it out loud, well the neighbours would probably think I’d gone stark raving mad, but pray I did. As I said I was standing there, and miles away hoping that within the varieties I’d selected I would get a winning seedling, and not only a winner, a big dahlia winner. Then it happened, I promise you it really happened. I know I’m inclined to elaborate a little, well alright a lot, but this is Gospel. A bee first landed on the prepared parts of Spike, he was there a while, and getting his little proboscis right down inside the tubes within the central disk, then he left that flower and went on to Jim Branigan, he wasn’t there quite so long, and when he left I thought he was going to miss Madame De Rosa, but he double back from the end of the row over the top of the previous one and straight down on her sunken pistils. I watched as he hunted for the precious nectar, but of course at the same time he was clearing the anthers of pollen and placing it on various parts of himself. I was certain he wouldn’t get to the last flower I’d hand pollinated because it was two rows away and nearer to the greenhouse, but although he hesitated eventually he turned and landed fair and square on Wyne’s Aztec Gold. I swear he done the business to every flower I’d prepared. Whether he thought I wasn’t going to have much luck is debatable, or whether he was saying “You’ve done your best as a human, but I’m made for this job leave it to me” He actually went to each flower in the same order that I did. I wouldn’t mind there was only him and me there, not a soul but us two. It was uncanny; it was perishing, and not a day for bees. I swear he was the only one about, even the bravest were tucked up sucking on a piece of honey, but this guy was there all by him self. I was so taken back I raced in and told Irene, it was exactly quarter to one, and I felt like I should be telling the world. Of course if you’re passionate about something you can get carried away, I know that, but this was a strange wonderful feeling, as if I’d been helped by someone, something. I’d like to think I’ll get my big seeds and my big flowers now. I’m not a regular church goer, but I believe there is something more than we’ll ever know while we’re on this ol’ earth. If I do get a giant or anything larger than a medium you’ll be the first to know. Four pods are going to form, and the seeds inside are going to ripen, that’s my prediction, and in 2008, well we’ll see. 

	Spike.		Jim Branigan.		Madame De Rosa.		Wyn's Aztec Gold.

These are the blooms before they were prepared, and they are in the order Mr. Bumble and my self pollinated them, I swear to God it all happened exactly like I told it, and although I can tell a good tale, this one’s fact.

Ken UK.

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