Gardening is a hand of Poker

Although the weather is not changing yet, subtle changes can be noticed in the garden. The shine is coming off, a leaf here and a leaf there is drooping. It is a wise gardener who knows when to hold 'em, and knows when to fold 'em. Last week, I moved the marigolds from around the paths through the vegie patch, and they quick;y turned up their toes in the heat, without TLC. But what to replace them with.

When I was three and a half (February 1952) my grandmother died (suddenly) from a massive stroke. My grandparents had been living the life of quintessential battlers at Ourimbah, since being forced out of the family box factory in St Peters, immediately after the war. My grandfather was 54, and struggling to raise his 14 year old son alone. He moved to a small shack in West Gosford, near where the poet, Henry Kendall had lived.

And he filled his front garden with dahlias. All sorts of Dahlias, to my drunken eyes. He had Waterlily. He had Pompon and Ball. And he had Cactus. Why on earth he adored the Cactus more than the Ball, I could never fathom.

At Bunnings today, I could only find this Aztec Dahlia, which looks a bit like a 'waterlily'. I want to get one of each of the forementioned dahlia types.