I've posted recently about how the dahlias in the gardens at Struan Farm were my father-in-law Maurie's pride and joy. And how I really didn't like them, thought they were frivilous and required way too much work. (Of course I never told him that, but I couldn't understand what he saw in them, why he thought they were such a special flower.)
They were starting to grow on me when I wrote that post. I'd begun to see how they provide color at a time when the summer flowers have faded, that they fill a gap.
But it's gone well beyond that the past two-three weeks. I've found myself really liking them, hunting them out for our weekend table arrangements. The pink ones are finished now, but the yellow and orange ones endure.
So my life lesson here is that it takes time to appreciate certain things, dahlias for sure. They don't come to you, you accept them on their terms. In many respects my father-in-law was like that. Coincidence? Perhaps not.
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