Violets

Violets are the sweetest, simplest flowers. They are unassuming. You don't hear romantic banter peppered with the word, 'violet', and they aren't generally sent as tokens of love, but have you ever picked a bouquet of violets? Have you ever inhaled their delicious aroma? Have you ever set a tiny bouquet on your bedside table to breathe in the loveliness?

You know of the nosegays that delicate ladies carried in the days of yore to ward off, shall we say, the unpleasant scents of civilization. Remember Eliza Doolittle and her little violet bouquets? If you could just inhale a violets lovely fragrance, you would wish to carry a little tussie mussie with you simply for the romantic notion.

When I had my store, I carried little silver vase brooches . . . sigh . . . people just didn't get my vision. I still have my little brooch/vase and certainly do my part to keep the old tradition alive.

The violets in my yard were starts from my Grandmother. Grandma is 98 now, and very often we can be heard discussing her violets {Truly, when the topic isn't quilting.} She moved to California after WWII, and brought her beloved violets with her. She says they originally came from a hog pen. They have made several other stops along the way in order to find their way into my flower bed. And I love that. I love that the flowers have history. There is so little history in our homes, and especially our gardens, any more. We have such a tendency toward trendiness.


And I love to share my violets. I will give starts to anyone that appears interested, and especially, I try to make certain that any of Grandma's grandchildren that want any have them!

I worked in a little French boutique for a couple of years. When my violets were blooming, I would cut a little bouquet a day, put them in the prettiest little vase or bottle that we had, with a little tuft of ribbon around the neck, and someone would have to have that vase before the day was through. . . ."and I can have the violets, too, can't I"? I did the same in my shop . . .{another sigh} . . .

According to "The Language of Flowers", the meaning of blue violets is Faithfulness. It does seem apropos. They are the most modest, unassuming and faithful flowers, returning late every winter to assure you that the world still has loveliness buried deep inside, waiting for warmer days.

The Violet

Down in a green and shady bed,
A modest violet grew;
Its stalk was bent, it hung its head
As if to hide from view.

And yet it was a lovely flower,
Its colour bright and fair;
It might have graced a rosy bower,
Instead of hiding there.

Yet thus it was content to bloom,
In modest tints arrayed;
And there diffused a sweet perfume,
Within the silent shade.

Then let me to the valley go
This pretty flower to see;
That I may also learn to grow
In sweet humility.

Jane Taylor
{1783 - 1824}