It’s been said that June is the most romantic month of the year. I always remember this whenever my hollyhocks come into bloom.
I imagine, in years gone by, courting couples taking long, leisurely summer afternoon walks through gardens, bursting with color and bloom. Perhaps, seeking a moment of privacy, they would pause behind the towering hollyhocks stems; and, surrounded by frothy blossoms conjuring visions of lacy dresses, the man would drop suddenly to one knee.
With his heart in his throat, he’d hold up a tiny box and ask the woman one simple question. She’d pause just a moment to catch her breath and then give him her answer.
Promises exchanged and sealed with a kiss, they’d clasp hands and head toward home, the ring on her finger catching the sunlight while a breeze gently lifted the petals in her hair.