Divide and (not quite) conquer

Today was one of those February days in Portland that teases and titillates.

Sunshine!

60 degrees!

Singing birds!

Goodness, it must be springtime!

Okay, not quite. But we're getting close. I acquired my first purchased flowers of the season, 2 sweet primroses from my grandfather. After he divided them from the tray this afternoon, he rushed me out the door because he wanted to make sure they would make it home without dying, because I insisted on putting them in a temporary container that was too small, and which he insisted on loading up with potting soil.

"Papa, I'll be home in half an hour, they'll be fine."

"Well...alright. But go right home and plant them."

(Please don't tell him I stopped at the market for dinner ingredients. He might stroke out.)

A side note on my grandfather and flowers: Since my grandmother passed away last year, he has been almost religious in keeping with many of the gardening practices she kept. For instance, the strip along the driveway must be planted with the correct color of geraniums. And the section under the eve on the south side of the house must be planted with the correct number of begonias. I'm not even kidding.

Since the weather was so nice, I thought it wise to take advantage of it and work on a project and not just sit inside, fold laundry, and watch bad television Law & Order on TNT. It was imperative that I dig up and divide up my dahlia tubers this year. By the time I got around to it last year, it was too late and the dahlias were already sprouting up.

Oh.
My.
Stars.

Let's not skip a year again, k? Out of the 11 different tuber masses I dug up, no fewer than 5 of them had to be put into full-sized paper grocery bags for temporary storage. A couple of them were even double-bagged for safety reasons. My point is (in case you're lost): I have many, many dahlia tubers. And we're running out of space in our garden beds right now, until we take out more lawn and the crappy shrubs I don't like. Luckily, I seem to have many friends in town who are not only willing, but excited to take some off my hands.

I expect in a few years, I will be getting an email from these friends asking if I'm in need of dahlia tubers. What goes around comes around, I guess.