Dahlia Drama: Love, Logistics, and Luring Customers from the Road

The First Dahlia dig : How Fifteen Tubers Became a Situation

I started planting this year’s dahlia tubers with what I never thought was a manageable plan because those words are not part of my life. I did know I had limited time to get some tubers in the ground before I was due online with my 8th grade class in Los Angeles. Just one box or bag of tubers at a time to begin with—nothing too outrageous. A few rows of rototilling later in the area that was home to a few failed, very late plantings of pumpkins last year would be more than enough space for this year’s dahlias, right?! As the sun dipped lower and 2 rows of tubers were already in, home to just 1 box & 3 small bags of dahlias, I had a familiar realization: I may have gone overboard. Again.

Late season pretty coral dahlia 2024

A Deep and Possibly Unhealthy Love for Dahlias

I love dahlias. I love the way they show up to the party when everyone else in the garden has packed up and gone home. They work my patience all summer and hold back the blooms until late in the season, pairing well with zinnia harvesting. I love that they bloom in impossible colors and look like they’re wearing ruffles on purpose. I love that they’re soft and bold at the same time, like a velvet punch in the face. And this year, I’ve apparently gone all-in.

Last Year’s Hidden Beauties, This Year’s Roadside Stars

Last season, I kept the dahlias tucked away in a private, out-of-sight area of the field. I could hide them if they flopped & I could hide myself from the world while I dug & watered & weeded. They were for me—my secret indulgence (and private possible failure). Sure, I cut a few and sold some here and there, but mostly they were hidden, growing in peace without much public attention. This year, things are different. This year, I’ve decided to plant them where the entire traffic flow going south on 29 can see them—right along the roadside. If these dahlias are going to bloom like showgirls, they may as well have an audience.

The Slight Panic Behind the Bloom Parade

Of course, this decision is not entirely artistic. There’s a practical, slightly panicked reason behind the roadside reveal. I’ve realized that I have expanded my dahlia operation. Dramatically. The tubers have multiplied. The space they need has ballooned. And while I still love them just as fiercely, I’m now faced with a very real possibility: I may have planted more than my current customer base can support. I know there are corners of social media that have an obsessive love with dahlias. I am not sure that this obsession has been passed along to the residents of Southeast Pennsylvania quite yet. I have work to do on the advertising front. Note to self: make signs for dahlias. Luckily I have a little time before they bloom.

Betting on Beauty: The Roadside Strategy

That’s the thing with dahlias. You get hooked. You start with a few and the next thing you know, you’re considering naming them, assigning them personalities, and making room in the barn for winter storage like you’re hosting floral Airbnb guests. They’re irresistible. But they’re also a lot of work—and a gamble, especially for small flower farmers who need their crops to pay their way.

So this year, I’m testing a new theory: if you plant it, they will come. By putting my most dramatic blooms in the most visible location, I’m hoping to turn casual road traffic into flower sales. Maybe someone driving by will see a wall of coral and crimson petals and decide they can’t go another mile without a bouquet. Maybe a dahlia-lover will slam on the brakes, yank their car onto the shoulder, and sprint into my field in search of Café au Lait (spoiler alert: none of those. They don’t last long after cuts). Or maybe people will just slow down, admire the blooms, and come back another day with a little more curiosity and a little less carpool chaos.

Either way, I’m rolling the dice in color.

It’s a Gamble—But a Gorgeous One

There’s a very specific joy in planting something beautiful where people can see it. It’s part business strategy, yes, but also part invitation. Flowers are good for the soul, even if you’re only catching them in your peripheral vision between errands. If these dahlias lure someone into buying a bouquet or simply make someone’s morning commute a bit more bearable, I’ll consider it a win. The reward is well received when someone comments that they love seeing our flowers. I even had a bike rider stop & ask about sunflowers yesterday. I’m a sucker for a gold star and appreciative of the notes from strangers that I am doing hard work and they see me! (granted, I may be hard to miss whilst wandering around open fields and running mowers, tractors and rototillers.)

Come for the Flowers, Stay for the Chaos

Still, I’ll be the first to admit this is a bit of a leap. I’m betting on beauty to attract business, which isn’t exactly a foolproof marketing strategy. But I’ve got hope—and honestly, I’ve got too many tubers to pretend I don’t need a few extra customers.

So as the season unfolds, I’ll be watching. Will the road bring people to the flowers? Will the flowers bring joy to the road? Will I ever stop planting things that require staking, labeling, and emotional commitment? Probably not. But that’s the life I chose. Or the life that chose me.

If you’re local and reading this, consider this your official invitation: drive by, wave at the dahlias, and stop in if you want to take one home. They’ve been waiting for this moment, and frankly, so have I.

One of my very first dahlias in 2024