Hollyhocks and the Memory of Summer in Taos

There’s something about hollyhocks. Tall, brightly blooming and a bit fragile when you think about the mesa winds near my house.

For me, hollyhocks signal the arc of summer. They’re bi-annual perennials, which means they take their time, often growing foliage one year and blooming the next. It’s a rhythm I’ve come to respect patience, this slow preparation before the burst of color.

In Taos, you’ll see hollyhocks growing wherever the sun lingers. They remind me of hot sidewalks and slow walks through town. Of neighborhood conversations over fences and the sound of music drifting from somewhere down the street. They mean sunshine and summer, and a certain generosity of the season.

When they first begin to bloom, it’s hopeful, easy, sweet. By the time the flowers are climbing toward the top of their stalks, I know the season is shifting. The days are still warm, but the light starts to feel different. That’s what hollyhocks tell me: summer’s full song is playing, and soon it will fade into something quieter.

I’ve painted hollyhocks more than once. They show up in the background of portraits, in quick plein air studies, sometimes even just as a suggestion of color near a window or doorway. Each time, they carry that same gentle reminder of time, place, and change. And always, of home.