French Hollyhocks are not “French”
French Hollyhocks are not “French”
Hollyhocks awaken memories for people just like Proust's Madeleines. My neighbor Kerry in Montana once said to me when she sees hollyhocks she is transported back to the streets of Helena Montana where she grew up. The hollyhocks would grow in every crack and corner and defined summer to her. Charlie from Seattle says "I remember the hollyhocks from the big country garden of my grandmother and the big city of my mother, they have such special memories associated with them." Another Montanan, a cowboy poet named Wally McRae, wrote a poem about his grandmother's “French” hollyhocks. For him hollyhocks bring back the memory of his grandmother's need for beauty in the hard-knock landscape of eastern Montana. It is only as an adult that he realizes how important it is to have beauty and not just a useful food producing garden. In reading his poem I was curious as to why he called them “French” hollyhocks. Are they really French? And so I did som…
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