Dahlia Dilemma

     Once upon a time, not too long ago, the dahlias I was gifted with bloomed in force.  They were red and the flowers covered their foliage so thickly that some people assumed they were rose bushes. I dutifully dug them up at the start of winter weather, brushed them off, wrapped them in newspaper, and stored them in the basement, to be replanted in the spring. Each year the reward was plentiful blooms, though they did begin their blooming process  fairly late in the year, mid-to-late August.
    Then, about 5 or 6 seasons ago, something changed.  Though the dahlia plants grew, as usual, strong and healthy-appearing, the flowers were few and far between; this year, and last, I counted only 3 blooms. Back in the day, when the grandchildren were still little, they entered them in the Schaghticoke Fair, their entry class requiring 3 blooms.  The kids used to pick and choose which were the best blooms. Until that fateful year when there were not even 3 blooms available, and the entry was cancelled. That was the beginning of the dahlia decline, yet to be reversed.   I sought the ultimate professionals, those on google of course, and discovered a slew of things that could have impeded their floral display.
   Over the last 4 or 5 years, I attempted to follow the advice:  Plant them deeper, or not so deep.  Give them plant food, prior to and/or  after planting.  Dig them up after the first hard frost.  Store them in cardboard, not plastic.  Plant them in the sun, full, or partially shaded.  Divide them with a sharp knife. Or gently pull the tubers apart.  Or leave them attached, for more, though possibly smaller, flowers, one site said.
   At one point or another, I followed all the suggestions, each year looking at the nicely growing plants and thinking, "This will be the year that they'll bloom like they used to, during  those glory years."  This past year, the hope remained.  Only to be dashed when the lovely greenery produced only a measly few offspring.
   It's easier to forgive the non-productive when they are independent and self sufficient; slacking off is their prerogative.  But when you are so heavily invested in their care, what with digging up, dealing with, storing, and then replanting, resentment begins to build.  Even threats---"I'll just leave you there all winter; just see if you can survive by yourself."  I know they can't.  I've left several in different areas, only to find their dried up remains in the spring.
   Then, this year, an end to the struggle.  Snow fell, and heavily, before the first hard frost, the dahlia bed deeply covered by the plow's accumulation.  No way am I going to shovel in order to dig them up.  Problem solved.
   Today, a thaw, which promises (or threatens) to reveal the stalks of the dahlias, crying out to be rescued for the chance of one more season in the sun.  I'd already decided to forego their appeal.  Whether I'll succumb to their appeal depends----on what the weather is like tomorrow.