When I returned home a week ago, I was thrilled to see that the hollyhocks I'd started from seed in 2015 were, at last, blooming.
So of course I became obsessive about getting pictures of them.
I've always loved hollyhocks -- especially the old fashioned single ones. Some where there is a picture of eight or nine year old me in my Easter dress, standing in front of a row of hollyhocks planted against the white-painted board and batten of our house.
I grew them years ago -- and now I have them again.
Please forgive my irrational exhuberance -- I did edit away at least two-thirds of the pictures I took.