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 Dan Pearson's booth at the farmer's market in Olympia
All his earnings went into savings for college. Dan put himself
through Washington State University with his dahlia dollars,
studying for a landscape architecture degree and going home each
summer to continue his flower farm. Though he worked for a
landscaping firm for several years after college, the flower
business grew so big he had to focus on it full time.
In dahlias, Dan found a business particularly well-suited to the
climate and people of western Washington. A native of the Mexican
highlands, the dahlia loves the mild weather and cool summers of
the Northwest—and the Northwest loves it back. Many states have a
dahlia society, and some, like California, have several. But
Washington tops out at 13.
While many people simply prize dahlias for their vigor and color
and the fact that they bloom in late summer, when most flowers go
dormant, there is a subculture of hard-core dahlia aficionados,
especially here in Washington. These are the competitive dahlia
growers, the dahlia-obsessed who tend their plants daily, who set
up parasols around them to protect them from too much sun, who
shell out big money for the newest varieties, and who study the art
of arranging them so they can win prizes at flower shows. “There is
a way to groom them, and pluck off the unsightly petals and leaves,
but you’re not supposed to do that,” says Chester Pearson, who has
become—you guessed it—one of those dahlia fanatics. During the
blooming season he’s constantly watching his plants to decide what
his entry might be. And every weekend it’s a new show and a new
competition, he says.
With nine sizes, 18 classifications of form—including pompon,
peony, and water lily—and 15 colors or color combinations, the
dahlia has a lot going on. “Some people say a dahlia is a man’s
flower,” says Dan, pointing to his father and family friend Dick
Porter, who love the bloom because it’s so showy. But as an
American Dahlia Society accredited judge, Dan’s seen serious
cultivators of both genders.
“It’s the competitive spirit,” says Porter, a retiree who has a
few hundred dahlia plants in his yard near Bellingham. “We’re
always looking for the greatest new one.” Pearson the elder grins
and nods, admitting that it doesn’t hurt that when it comes to
spring planting time, he gets the pick of his son’s supply.
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