The Violet on My Floor

dried flower2

Like the note that fell out of the apron that Jackie Campbell gave to me to use in a quilt, this pressed flower turned up on the floor of my studio.  A violet.   I’m assuming it came from one of the bunches of  hankies that I was going through today to make some scarves.   The first time I saw it on the floor I thought it was a scrap of fabric and ignored it.  But then, there it was again, right in front of me as I arranged hankies to make a scarf.    This time I picked it up and realizing it was a flower, opened the petals to find a small yellow dot of pollen.

Had someone pressed it then placed in a folded hankie for safe keeping?  Will I find a hankie with a stain on it in the shape of the violet?  The meaning of the violet spans from innocence to fortune to an early death.    I think of violets as the mischievous flowers that grow wild in the grass daring me not to pick them before running over them with the lawn mower.  I always do pick them,  they make such a pretty bouquet.  I think of Prue Sarn, from Mary Webb’s  Precoius Bane, bringing violets to the market to sell. I think of the one thing I got from my grandmother’s house after she died, a chipped plate with violets on it.

There’s an aloneness about the violet.  Its romance is in unrequited love, the loss of love, or the absence of love.  But it’s also a flower that endures and remembers.  It’s ancient and familiar.  A flower worth saving, pressing and drying and placing in a hankie to keep.

10 thoughts on “The Violet on My Floor

  1. Violets were my grandmother’s favorite flower and I always think of her when I see them. I have a violet covered tablecloth that I took from her home after she died. Beautiful violets.

  2. If you find a ‘shroud of violet’ on a hankie, I know you will creatively and affectionately present its next vision beauty.

  3. It’s 10:36 Monday night and I’ve just been bawling over the lost loves in my life, and I checked FaceBook to get my mind into a different space. What do I come to? Your ‘Violet’ post and unrequited love. I guess the Universe wants me to bawl tonight. You might be the messenger. 😉

  4. Maria, this reminds me of the song mom used to sing about the modest violet growing in the valley that didn’t know how beautiful it was. I hope you find a hankie with the imprint.

  5. I’m thinking it was given to some lucky woman by a wide-eyed child with a big smile on his or her face.

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