Classic Black

Day 270: "Hollyhock" may well be the first common name I learned for a plant, and they certainly set me on the path to an appreciation of flowers. They grew in profusion behind my grandmother's house, towering spires of pink, red and white, and not a double in the lot. At the impressionable age of three and a half, I was entrusted with one of my mother's childhood books which was illustrated in the style of the 1920s showing flowers in anthropomorphic form. Lady Hollyhock, from whom I learned the name, wore a dress which could have come from my grandmother's garden, and in my imagination, she lived somewhere in those delightful blooms. As an adult, Hollyhocks were a must-have in my own yard, and generally were placed where they could lean against a sunny wall or fence. However, singles had given way to the more popular double varieties, and seeds had to be begged from friends or nicked from untended plants in passing until one company began offering "heritage" varieties. I was overjoyed to find a black one among the commercial offerings, something I had not seen previously. Today, a line of them stands along the south wall of my house, their abundantly flowered spikes visible through the Loom Room window. In thirty years of cultivation, they are putting on the best show ever this year, Lady Hollyhock in a classic "little black dress."