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Planting Season at Flaming Acres Dahlias

Planting Days at Flaming Acres Dahlias

The Week the Fields Began Again

There are certain weeks on a flower farm that feel especially significant.

Not because they are easy…

but because they mark the beginning of something hopeful.


This past week was one of those weeks here at Flaming Acres Dahlias.

Dion and I stepped into the week carrying equal parts excitement and uncertainty as we prepared to plant our dahlia tubers for the 2026 growing season. The biggest question hanging over us was simple:

Would the modified potato planter actually work for planting dahlias?


For weeks, Dion had been studying, adjusting, welding, modifying, and reimagining an old organic potato planter in hopes of transforming it into something that could help us plant more efficiently this season. The original planter was designed as a four-row potato planter pulled behind a tractor. Dion spent the week before planting carefully converting it into a single-row planter designed specifically for our dahlia fields.

And honestly…we had no idea if it would work.


The planter itself is fascinating to watch in motion. As the tractor moves through the field, blades beneath the planter dig into the soil much like a corrugator, creating a narrow trench for planting. A gear rolling along the ground turns a wheel above the planter where I sit feeding tubers one by one into sections of the rotating wheel. As the wheel turns, each tuber drops carefully down a shaft into the freshly made trench below. Then a secondary blade follows behind, gently covering the tuber with soil.

Simple in theory.

Complicated in reality.


It took nearly our entire first day just to troubleshoot equipment, make adjustments, and finally ease the planter into the field for its very first trial run.

We decided to begin cautiously with a row of mystery tubers before moving on to named varieties.

And then…it worked.

By the end of that first day, we had successfully planted 32 varieties and completed our first full rows in the field. To most people it may not have looked remarkable, but to us it felt like an enormous victory.


What happened over the next few days honestly amazed us.

Because once the planter began working properly, the speed and efficiency completely changed what was possible for our little farm.


In less than four days, Dion and I planted 5,856 dahlia tubers entirely by ourselves.

No hired crew.

No outside help.

Just the two of us, long days, dusty clothes, tractor rides, sore muscles, determination, and a shared vision for what Flaming Acres Dahlias is becoming.


Perhaps what made this week feel even more meaningful was remembering how different last season looked. Last year, we planted over 3,200 dahlia tubers using hoes and hand tools. We literally crawled through the fields on our hands and knees placing tubers row by row into the soil. The work took two exhausting weeks, and by the end we finally had to call friends to help us finish.

This year felt different. Not easier exactly…but wiser.


One of the biggest lessons we carried forward from last season involved the location of our planting fields. Previously, many dahlias had been planted near our large poplar trees. During harvest last fall, we discovered massive tree roots woven throughout sections of the dahlia rows. Suddenly, the lower yields and struggling plants in certain varieties made much more sense. The trees had quietly been competing for water and nutrients beneath the surface all season long.


This year, we intentionally moved the dahlias away from those trees and into fields where they would have room to thrive without that underground competition.

And now…after all the preparation, all the adjustments, all the long hours in the tractor seat and dusty rows…we wait.

We wait for those first tiny green sprouts to begin pushing through the soil in the weeks ahead.

Every season begins this way. Quietly.

Hidden beneath the surface.

Long before the blooms arrive.

Somehow, that waiting always feels a little sacred.


With a grateful heart,

Debra Flaming

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