I once had a front garden full of dahlias and it was admired by neighbours and by the Wednesday Walkers, the rambling group that passes our cottage once a week. They would stop and take photos of the colours lapping over our front wall, but then we got the builder in. I have forgotten the job he was doing in the house, but he took it on himself to bury my dahlias under four feet of plaster, pea gravel and stone. It was an interesting look to come home to, and what made it even worse was that it was a Wednesday and the walkers saw and looked at me in
