When you first walk into Christopher White's little house in Naul, north Co Dublin, you might wonder at this young man's apparent over-fondness for trinkets and ornaments. Every shelf and mantel is covered with twinkling crystal and silver doo-dahs, and in the hall a corner cabinet jingles with the delicate music of more cut crystal clinking off fine china. But careful squinting at this exquisite collection reveals neat lines of engraving on each item: engraving telling of years of horticultural triumphs. These are Christopher White's trophies, proudly won over the past decade and a half for roses, cacti, gladioli, dahlias and chrysanthemums.
"I started off in the junior section in Balbriggan, and I remember thinking I'll never be in with the big lads," recalls the 31-yearold. "But by hook and by crook, I've got there slightly now."
Getting there, even slightly, is all about total dedication and endless quantities of time. And space. Just to grow dahlias and chrysanthemums - which feature heavily at horticultural shows at this end of the season - Christopher has two polytunnels and part of a field. "I couldn't grow and show to this degree if I didn't have the space. And I've no disturbances here, it's quiet and peaceful."
Inside the dahlia tunnel, it's true, there is peace and quiet - of a sort. But certainly not visually: these dahlias make an unbelievable racket with their wickedly gaudy blooms, smacking you in the eyes with colours unlike anything that nature ever intended. Psychedelic combinations of saturated pink, orange, red and yellow suffuse the flower-heads that rise from a five-foot forest of sedate green foliage. Their shapes, too, appear artificially manufactured, from the neat red tennis balls of `Karenglen', classed as a "miniature decorative" (or "miniature dec" to aficionados) to the rubbery, sea anemone-shaped `Wootton Impact', its tightly rolled, spiky petals and eight-inch girth categorising it as a "medium cactus".
In show dahlia growing, as in most competitive horticultural sports, there are strict divisions and firm standards relating to size, shape and even the tilt of individual flowers. The ideal specimen is held at a 45 degree angle from the stem, any less is deemed "clock-faced", and any more won't do either. Sizes are graded from miniature to giant (which is bigger than a human head), and serious growers - like Christopher - possess a set of plastic rings that instantly calibrate the bloom.
The dahlia year starts each January in the greenhouse when the previous year's dormant tubers are gently woken up with a bit of bottom heat. When green shoots appear, cuttings are taken and propagated. In May these are ready to be planted out in the tunnel. Meanwhile, Christopher prepares the ground by digging three mammoth trenches which he fills with well-rooted manure, "heaps of it. And after they're planted they get some sulphate of potash to strengthen the stems."
And then what? "Well, they don't get a whole lot else," he says cagily. Yes, but what do they get? (Now we're going to hear his secrets!) But he changes the subject deftly: "Well, my biggest problem this year is weeds," he says, in a pointed non sequitur, and then he moves along effortlessly to talk about "disbudding".
This is a procedure where excess buds are nipped off, so that all the plant's energies are channelled into a few luxuriant, brilliantly coloured blooms. "It's time consuming, you have to be disbudding all the time," explains Christopher. "But some varieties you can't disbud too much or they go over size, and then some you have to disbud and debranch a lot to get decent-sized blooms, like this one, `Kiwi Gloria' " - a show favourite, a small cactus with steely lavender and grey petals.
One of the notable things about dahlias is that when they come out of the bud - when the blossoms are fully hatched - each petal is perfectly aligned with its mates and is flawlessly pleated, rolled or plumped. The impeccable flower heads could not be more starched and regular.
Not so in the other tunnel, where unruly, mop-headed chrysanthemums grow, one per stem and two stems per plant. As soon as the buds begin to open they are hooded in grease-proof bags to protect them from damage. When they are fully developed, they are cut, but then they must be "dressed" with cotton buds and make-up brushes until every petal is lying snugly in place. "Some of the lads would spend all night doing it, but I have to say I'm not overly fussy," admits Christopher. "I'd only spend an hour or so, " - on three blooms - "I find that the cotton buds are very good. If you get a little spot you can wet one and take it off. They work wonders."
And then, precious specimens dressed, categorised and counted, it's off to the show - each stem loaded into a separate vessel in a milk crate and lashed carefully to a bamboo frame. Tomorrow's show is a special one, not just because it is the last of the season, but because it is the local show at Naul, run by the gardening club of which Christopher is the chairman. "It was a dream of mine to have a show in the Naul."
And nine years ago, the dream came true. Now, in this tiny village, there is no single room or hall large enough for the 112 "classes" in the show. Instead they are spread over three rooms in the school, among the blackboards and nature projects and ABCs. But this doesn't stop exhibitors coming from all over Dublin county, from Belfast and Banbridge, from Mullingar and Meath, from Laois and Tipperary. They come, not just with prize flowers and pot plants, but with home-grown fruit and vegetables. There are trays of polished apples and dusky plums, shining leeks as thick as baseball bats, giant onions as big as footballs and long, long carrots.
Naul and District Gardening Club Annual Horticultural Show takes place tomorrow, Sunday September 28th, at Naul National School, from 2 p.m. - 5 p.m. Admission: £1.