Hollyhock Girl

How many of you ladies remember making hollyhock dolls? One wilted bloom for the head, a full blossom for the dress and there was a flowery girl, all dressed up for a party.  Hollyhocks are old-timey flowers. Mom had lots of hollyhocks by her garden gate when I was a child. I believe that Ma Latty planted hers in her chicken yard. Hollyhocks always remind me of simpler times, of hot summer days and welcome shade trees, of drinking lemonade while sitting on a well curb and looking up, up, up through the branches of an oak at a blue Oklahoma sky smiling down at me.

Hollyhocks are hardy,  taking root where they are planted and where they are not planted. I don’t know if I have birds, squirrels, or the wind to thank for a bunch of pink hollyhocks growing in my herb bed. I like discovering flowers where Nature has planted them.  They are neat summertime surprises. So far this year I have pink and also white hollyhocks. I remember planting the pink ones. I’m not sure where the white ones came from.

Bumblebees love hollyhocks. Many years ago, one of my nephews tried to capture a bumblebee by pinching the petals around it. The bee had the last word. Those petals were no defense against the stinger or an irate insect.

Hollyhocks make wonderful hats for long-suffering kittens too. I guess they are one of those flowers that speak to the creative mind of a child. But the very best thing about hollyhocks (besides the fact that they are beautiful) is that they are a flowery bridge between the here and now and summers of long ago.