Hollyhocks always remind me of being a kid when my grandmother used to make dolls out of them for me. Every summer when we'd visit, I'd make a cousin or a great aunt or someone show me how to make them. And then we'd go home, where there was no such thing as a hollyhock, and I'd completely forget how to do it until the next time I'd go up there and have to make someone show me how to do it "one last time." Giving a kid resources so she quits bugging you about it: just one more service the internet offers.
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June 22, 2010 at 7:45 AM
They grow here . . just not like up in the mountains.