Lake & Co

I watched my neighbor tear out her hollyhocks last spring because she wanted "something more useful than just flowers." I didn't have the heart to tell her she'd just composted what amounted to a summer-long salad bar with a built-in medicine cabinet.

Hollyhocks belong to the mallow family, which means they share DNA with okra, hibiscus, and the marshmallow plant that once gave us actual marshmallows. That kinship runs deeper than looks. Every part of these towering beauties produces mucilage, that slippery, soothing substance that makes okra thicken gumbo and marshmallow root calm an angry throat. Your cottage garden classic is quietly doing the same thing, eight feet tall and blooming its heart out.

The blossoms themselves taste like summer air with a hint of sweetness. Pick them in early morning once the dew's gone but before the sun gets hot. Tuck them into green salads where they'll unfurl like silk napkins, or float them in drinks where they'll steep their color into the liquid like tiny sunset clouds. My grandmother crystallized them with egg white and sugar, turning each petal into something that belonged in a jewel box instead of on a cake.

The young leaves cook down exactly like spinach, shrinking into tender green ribbons that carry that characteristic mallow slip. Older gardeners knew this. They'd wrap seasoned rice in hollyhock leaves the way Mediterranean cooks use grape leaves, steam them until tender, and serve them like packages from another century. The leaves also go into the pot when you want soup to cling to itself without flour or cornstarch. The plant does the work while you stir.

Then there's the root. Dig it in fall after the plant's put all its summer energy underground, and you'll find something that looks unremarkable but behaves like medicine. Simmer those roots low and slow, and you'll pull out the same compounds herbalists have been using since before we had corner drugstores. That syrup soothes what's raw, coats what's irritated, and calms what's inflamed. It's the reason marshmallow root sells for premium prices in herb shops while hollyhocks seed themselves freely in every alley garden.

While you're harvesting petals and pinching leaves, the plant itself is working underground in ways most flowers never bother with. That taproot drives down three feet or more, punching through hardpan and clay, opening channels for water and air. It's doing soil work that would cost you real money if you hired it out. And every flower that nods in the breeze is feeding something—hummingbirds threading through the spires, bees shouldering into blossoms, butterflies pausing between migrations.

When those flowers finally go to seed, they're setting up next year's pharmacy without asking permission. You'll find volunteers in spring, already sending down their prospecting roots.

Our great-grandmothers understood something we're only now remembering. Beauty that doesn't earn its keep doesn't belong in a working garden. They planted roses that fruited into hips, lavender that seasoned and soothed, and hollyhocks that bloomed like stained glass while quietly stocking the pantry. Nothing was just ornamental. Everything pulled double duty.

You can grow hollyhocks for their fairy-tale spires and jewel-toned petals. But you might as well know what else you're planting. By midsummer, you'll have more blossoms than any garden needs for looks alone. The rest becomes something else entirely—food, medicine, wonder you can actually taste. [PV9PK]

✨️🌿May 30th from 10-4pm Kanatsiohareke is hosting a workshop about planting by the moon phases, companion planting, and seed keeping, led by Stephen McComber from Kahnawake.

🌿We need to have a minimum of 15 folks in person to host this event ♡ Please like & share. Niawen!

💎Join us for an on-site workshop about traditional farming practices led by seed keeper and food sovereignty advocate Stephen McComber.

Lunch will be provided.

Stephen McComber from the Bear clan has always been connected to the land through the practice of gardening and farming. Throughout his life, he has been a seed teacher and is often a keynote speaker at various seed conferences all across Turtle Island, educating people on traditional Kanien'kehá:ka planting practices and cultures. He is a part of the Haudenosaunee Seed Keepers Society with other Kanien'kehá:ka seed savers. He is now the Chief of sustainability at the Mohawk Council of Kahnawake. With this role, he is able to have more power over sustainable and food sovereignty initiatives in and around Kahnawake. 🌿✨️

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/ways-to-keep-a-raccoon-out-of-your-garden-but-were-afraid-to-ask-tickets-1989276653019