Hollyhocks In The Forecast

Day 303: When I moved into my home, one of the first plants I wanted to add to my garden was Hollyhocks, the single variety with the saucerlike, open-faced flowers. Seeds weren't easy to find. Seed companies offered doubles in many colors, but singles were a rarity. I would have been willing to settle for any shade (even pink!), but in a stroke of great good fortune, what I found was a black-flowered type. I bought a packet, planted them that first spring, and settled in to wait the two years Hollyhocks require before putting on their first blooms. That was over 25 years ago, and every year, my black Hollyhocks have delighted me, growing somewhat wild and unmanaged (if perhaps not as abundantly as I'd hoped) against the south wall of the house.

Hollyhocks remind me of my grandmother. It was against the wall of her house facing a small-town alley that I first encountered them. Like mine, they were allowed the freedom to do as they would, forming clusters here, a solitary plant there, their bright faces always turned to the sun. But equally, I enjoyed them in the autumn when I would collect their unusual seed pods, cracking off the brittle husks to reveal the ring of "coins" inside. I would try to open them so that the circle of seeds remained intact; not an easy task, and one at which I seldom succeeded. As I gathered these today for sowing next year, my mind swept back to those blithe afternoons and I realized something in hindsight: my clumsy harvesting efforts were no doubt why my grandmother had so many Hollyhocks at the back of her house.