I love hollyhocks. They are such an overblown, weedy flower. They are survivors – they’ll grow anywhere, and keep coming back year after year. When I was a child I made dolls out of them somehow. Then I’d open the seedpods when the flowers dried up and scatter them. I loved how they lined up in the pod like tiny Necco wafers. Nowdays, I am totally taken by their colors. They range from white to the deepest red. No yellows or blues that I’ve seen – just reds and pinks and white, usually growing at the side of the highway in full blazing heat. They bloom early and stay late. Like that certain sort of party guest, except you don’t really want the hollyhocks to leave.

The photo above was taken on a visit to Chimayo, New Mexico after an NWP ELL Writing Retreat. I stayed in a B&B for a couple of nights after the retreat ended. Thr place was a farm with a little two-unit cottage at the edge of a big weedy lavendar field. I love the Santuario de Chimayó. There is an energy in that church that I have never felt anywhere else. I love to sit there and just feel it hum.

I thought hollyhocks would be a good header for my renewed blog. Survivor. That’s me.


2 thoughts on “Hollyhocks

  1. Bonnie says:

    Nice to stop by and read a bit about your word and passions. I’m not a flower person. I love flowers but I don’t know anything about them. They decorate my life and that’s enough, but it was good to read deeper here for know where the flower came from and what connection it has with you.

  2. lynnjake says:

    Thanks, Bonnie. I’ve never thought of myself as someone who knows about flowers, but I guess I do know a few things. Actually, now that I think about it, I connect different kinds of flowers and herbs with different parts of my life. Sort of autobiography by flora. Thanks for showing me that. \Lynn

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