The telltale leaf of a hollyhock emerged from the ground by our porch last month. It was a “volunteer,” as my grandmother Nanny used to say, a plant that showed up unexpectedly. I recognized its green, maple-sized leaf and knew that mischief was afoot. Not that I have anything against hollyhocks. I love them. But this little sprout, if left to its own devices, would soon grow humungous and wreck the careful symmetry of my flower bed. My symmetry! My precious! I called my Mom, who inherited Nanny’s green thumb. “I’ve got a hollyhock coming up in the wrong place and I want to move it,” I said. “What are its roots like? Should I do it now or later?” She was tactful but clear. “Leave it.” Not the answer I was looking for. “Hollyhocks are special plants, treasures,” she explained. “I know it doesn’t go with your bed, but if you dig it up, it’ll probably die.”
So I left it. Or them, I should say, because one of its drinking buddies showed up a week later. They’ve pretty well usurped my garden design. They’re like a couple of heavy tourists sitting on barstools and taking up all the space at your favorite neighborhood pub. My whirling butterfly plants, sited just-so to align with the porch bays, can’t whirl. As soon as the hollyhocks bloomed, though, I forgave them for everything. When I look at their crimson flowers, I think of a t-shirt I saw once in Keene, New Hampshire: “F#*k art, let’s dance.”
lovely writing. and a sign that relinquishing control sometimes brings unexpected but welcome beauty.
Hollyhocks are like lots of those things in life that “show up” – are they usurpers or messengers of serendipity ? I’d say your glorious plants know pretty well who got there first – NOT the Whirling Butterflies – though the Whirling Butterflies WERE the “appointed ones” of the “just so” plan. Those Johnny-come-lately, free spirits!! Summery blossoms atop long, slender, nodding stems that catch even the slightest breeze, amplifying the mood of deliciousness – lounging on the screened-in porch – under the ceiling fan & sipping sweet tea. But Nature presented a shift in THAT plan – HOLLYHOCKS !!! So darling, sit back and enjoy the view – if you had invited these glorious giants, you KNOW they would have declined.
I love hollyhocks, and I have grown them for 16 summers now. They are curious plants, in the regard that some plants stay in the same location from one year to the next, other plants don’t, and new ones show up in unexpected places. Gardening books provide little assistance in understanding them, as hollyhocks are classified as “annuals,” “biennials,” and also “perennial,” depending on the zone (and depending on the gardening book). I HAVE moved them successfully, but only when they are very, VERY small, in early spring. After they get a little bigger, there is no hope; they will die if you move them. Not only are hollyhocks lovely at their peak, but they are prone to a particular type of rust that makes their leaves turn into absolutely gorgeous, light-brown sheets of “lace” by the end of summer. I also find their mature seed pods to be quite gorgeous in “design.” It is always a guessing game as to what colors they will be each year, with this being dependent on the cross-pollination that occurred the year before. They do attract hummingbirds, which is lovely. A garden favorite of mine, I accept their unpredictable nature as a small price to pay for the beauty and sense of wonder they bring to the garden. They’re not good cutting flowers, but a single blossom floating in the birdbath or even a bowl of water looks amazing!
Hollyhocks teach the
science of complexity
better than books can.
What great comments! Thank you.