Hollyhocks are one of my favorite things, although I am partial to flowers in general. It's funny to consider how some things become favorites. In the case of the hollyhocks, I think it was osmosis.
My dad always associated hollyhocks with his grandmother. Apparently, they were a constant staple in her flower beds. By the time I knew my great grandmother, she was still doing some gardening, but not much. Since her gardening stamina was limited, she preferred to invest her energy in tomatoes rather than flowers. Despite the fact I never never saw her grow hollyhocks, the association my dad had with hollyhocks and his grandma somehow became my association too. I always feel her love when I see them.
When I lived in Kansas, hollyhocks were a staple in my flower beds too. You can't imagine my delight when I discovered they would grow in southern Nevada. Not only could I continue to grow the flower that has such happy associations for me, but considering the fact that so many plants just aren't hardy enough for the desert, it was a double blessing. (While trying to learn to garden in the desert, I think my kill rate was about 50%.) Not only do they tolerate the dry, hot weather, they self-seed. The two hollyhocks in the picture are volunteers. You know, it just doesn't get much better than that.
