08/15/2026
The Staffs of Saint Joseph: The Deep Roots of New Mexico Hollyhocks 🌸
Every summer, something beautiful happens across New Mexico. Against the backdrop of sun-baked adobe walls and under that deep blue sky, towering stalks of vibrant flowers burst into bloom. They peek over old wooden fences, line the edges of dusty roads, and claim the corners of historic plazas. To most, they are hollyhocks—but here, our people carry a much deeper story for them.
To the early Spanish settlers who traveled up the Rio Grande, these resilient plants were known as Las Varas de San José—the Staffs of Saint Joseph. The old manitos always shared the cuento that when Saint Joseph was chosen to marry the Virgin Mary, his wooden staff miraculously blossomed with these very flowers as a sign of blessing. When the families packed their belongings for the long, uncertain journey into the north, they made sure to tuck the tiny, flat seeds safely into their pockets. It was an act of faith, a way to carry a piece of grace and good luck into a beautiful but unforgiving landscape.
The deep cultural connection to these blooms is so strong that the legendary Rudolfo Anaya captured their magic in his beautiful book, How Hollyhocks Came to New Mexico. In his signature style, he wrote a whimsical tale about a near-sighted angel named Sueño who accidentally flies the Holy Family all the way to our valleys instead of Egypt to escape danger. Safe and sound, they live peacefully alongside the Native peoples. When it is finally time to return home, Saint Joseph leaves his shepherd’s staff behind as a gift of gratitude, planting it firmly into la tierra. The summer rains cause it to sprout into the very first colorful hollyhocks, ensuring that every home would always have a reminder of that peace.
The true magic of the flower lies in its deep roots. Our soil is not always easy; it can be dry, clay-heavy, and harsh. Yet, once these seeds catch in the earth, they dig deep, storing up life through the cold winters to push up massive, six-foot stalks by the middle of summer.
The older generation understood this strength well. In the shade of the resolana, the elders used to say that the flowers taught us exactly how to live in this land. They watched them thrive in the cracks of the earth where nothing else would grow, completely unbothered by the blazing heat or the lack of rain. To them, they were a reminder of the people who settled here—stubbornly resilient, deeply rooted, and determined to bring beauty to the most difficult places. It is an unwritten rule in many traditional families to plant the seeds on the first of May, Saint Joseph’s feast day for workers, trusting that the summer rains will eventually come to bring them to life.
They are biennials, meaning they spend their first year quietly establishing themselves close to the dirt, gathering strength without showing a single blossom. Then, in the second year, they shoot skyward, blooming from the bottom of the stalk all the way to the top. Because they drop their seeds so freely, a single patch planted by an abuelita decades ago will keep returning year after year, long after the original hands that planted them are gone.
The colors seem to mirror the landscape itself—rich, dark reds that love the sandy earth, and pale yellows and pinks that stand out against the red clay. They are a living connection to the past, standing tall against the wind, showing everyone who passes by what it means to belong to this earth.
Part of what makes them so special is their sheer strength. You don’t even have to dig into the ground or pamper them to get them started. If you have a handful of seeds, you can just scatter them across the dirt and let nature take over. They know exactly what to do.
But even the strongest things have their vulnerabilities, and Las Varas de San José are no exception. They thrive on a bit of neglect, because if they are overwatered, they can easily catch a disease called rust. The leaves will turn yellow and get covered in rough, orange-brown spots, stripping the plant of its vigor. It is a powerful reminder that these flowers actually need to go through hardship to grow and be beautiful. They need the dry heat and the lean times to stay healthy; too much comfort and too much water will ruin them.
For those who want to welcome these beautiful giants into their own yards, it is highly recommended to do some homework first. Learning exactly how to care for them, how to prevent the rust, and the right way to harvest the flat seed pods in the late summer makes all the difference.
There is a wonderful community of New Mexico residents who share this passion on a page dedicated specifically to hollyhock growers. Connecting with vecinos who understand our unique soil and climate is the best way to keep this beautiful tradition thriving in our neighborhoods for generations to come.
Credit: New Mexico History and Everything Land of Enchantment
