When Your Garden is Failing
I’m a terrible flower farmer, if you can even call me that. Funny when the words stumble out of my mouth answering, “what do you do?…” “I have a dahlia farm,” because I feel a fraud. Maybe fraud is too strong a word.
When walking the dahlia field in the early morning hours, dew dripping from the leaves, there is a penetrable gut punch looking at the state of affairs in terms of size these dahlia plants behold. Their size feels pathetic.
Naturally, I begin scrolling at last years pictures of the field at the same time. Were they this short? What did I do wrong? Scanning my brain to recollect last year’s beauty & bounty to this year’s rather pathetic display of degradation.
Did I plant later this year compared to last year? No.
Last year I amended with compost and this year I didn’t. Okay so maybe that’s one contributing factor.
This year I added a cover crop and last year I didn’t.
Last year amended with blood meal (12-0-0) loads of nitrogen. This year amended with Bio-Live (5-4-2) with less nitrogen but rich with other nutrients coming from marine-based organisms & full of beneficial bacteria, fungi & mychorrizae.
Last year my drip system was running a bit earlier and this year I neglected this waiting till late June to finally hook it up.
Last year I pinched the dahlias in late June & early July, this year well it was past mid July.
As the checklist of comparisons ran through my head, there was a key piece missing, which may be the biggest contributing factor. One which is the underlying issue and less about a concrete checklist from above.
Last year my mental health and vision for growing dahlias was strong & vibrant. I had a clarity of what I was doing and why I was doing it. There was a vigor to keep moving forward in growing dahlias. Meanwhile, this year my own health has been on the fritz, physically, mentally & emotionally. This shift is paramount with everything else.
So, maybe I am a fraud when someone asks what I do with my response, “dahlia farmer.” Maybe my heart isn’t in it in this season? Maybe I am torn because when I walk through my garden in early August realizing the blooms just haven’t arrived like they normally have it signals an awakening in me? It’s an awakening which begs to question if I really want this farm or not.
Do I still find joy in this work? Am I doing this because of how much I have already invested? Am I dreading the monotonous season of dividing alone when I’m an extrovert and love working with a team? Can you relate? Or maybe you are in the beginning stages of this growing dahlias and can’t even imagine how the garden could be like this for you?
For now, when I walk in the garden this month, I will continue to do the work needed. What I know to be true is I am invited to be kind to myself, and not compare my journey with someone else’s. I can look back to see Kamille in February, March, etc and breathe deeply with compassion for her. I can continue to corral the dahlias and feed them some yummy liquid fish & kelp mix to encourage growth. I can trust the process and practice patience in my own story. I hope you can do the same.
