It’s a good thing labor-intensive dahlias are stunning in bloom

There is only one time a year when I question how much I really like dahlias after all.

Some people call me a dahlia addict — I planted close to 100 of them this year— and they may have a point. I am completely enamored with their amazing flowers, appearing in nearly every color (other than the elusive blue), and a variety of shapes and sizes, from the tightly formed ball type (my favorite) to the enormous, completely impractical but fun to grow dinnerplate-sized types (also my favorite) and the single-flowered varieties that flower all summer and are favored by pollinators (again, a favorite).

Some gardeners dismiss dahlias as being a lot of work, and to a certain degree, they are. I tell people to treat them like a tomato plant — plant them in full sun, water consistently and stake them. That advice works for summer, but at this time of the year, the tomato plants go to the compost and the dahlias turn into a nightmare.

I might be exaggerating a bit, but digging dahlias for storage — required here because they will not tolerate frozen ground — is a real drag, particularly when the first snow flurries of the year remind you that time is fleeting.

You can, of course, choose to grow dahlias as annuals and just let them rot away in the ground over winter, but I dig and store mine for a couple reasons. The first is purely economical. I have a small fortune invested in what has become a dahlia collection and buying new ones every year would be a quick trip to the poorhouse. The other reason I go through the hassle of lifting and storing dahlias is that growing from clumps, rather than the single tuber you typically receive when you buy dahlias, produces bigger plants and more flowers.

So that’s how I found myself digging dahlias last weekend as the first snow of the season flew. After many years of experimenting with different methods, I’ve landed on one that works for me.

About 10 days after a frost kills the foliage, I use a garden fork to carefully dig out the entire clump, rinse it off and cut the stems about a couple inches from the top of the clump. I make sure they are labeled immediately because every dahlia tuber looks alike and I forget within moments which is which.

Then I put them in the cool basement to dry for a few days before packing them in pine animal bedding. Peat moss and vermiculite are also commonly used for storing.

I store them in crates in the coldest corner of the basement, which stays about 55 degrees. Anything between 45 and 55 degrees is optimal, but you can push it a bit either way. I don’t divide tubers until spring simply because I’m anxious to get this job finished in fall and I find it easier to see the eyes required for growth then.

I won’t lie; this is not the fun part of gardening. But the thought of my next dahlia flower fix keeps me going.