Spring has arrived once again! Even as our world seems upended by uncertainty, chaos, death and destruction; and even as our hearts break open for the many lives lost, spring is here in all its splendor. The budding trees and plants soon to be adorned in lush green foliage and the blooms resplendent in their lovely colors comfort us and remind us of renewal, of regeneration, and that life goes on and abounds.
Just recently this month as I walked along the wooded nature trail near my house, I heard the birds singing, noticed bulging buds on the trees and bushes and was reminded of the life force that courses through all that lives, though sometimes not as apparent during the cold and seemingly barren winter months. As I walked along the trail carpeted with the dead leaves of fall and winter, just out of the corner of my eye I saw a speck of purple. Filled with curiosity and growing anticipation, I moved closer and discovered that I was seeing what for me was the first wild violet of spring! My heart filled with happiness, warmth and gratitude. I was immediately transported in my mind to my childhood more than sixty years ago. The memories of growing up on a farm in southeast Georgia in the 1950s are still vivid for me. One of the most vivid and happy memories is of going with my parents, sister, and brother on an early spring Sunday afternoons down to the clearing at the edge of the branch to check on the seedling beds that held, nourished and protected some young seedlings until later in the spring when they were old enough to be planted in the fields. Daddy, at heart a kind, wise and hard-working man, was usually focused on the responsibilities of farming and often sank into a kind of worried and sullen silence that sometimes seemed to consume him; and we children kept careful watch at a distance, ever wishing we knew how to lift his mood. But on this chilly day in early spring with his family at the edge of the boggy woods his heavy mood lifted. I can still see him turning away from the seedling beds after inspecting them and assuring that the young plants were thriving, focusing his gaze on the ground several yards away from us and announcing, “I see!” My siblings and I scrambled excitedly in the edge of woods looking in the vicinity in which Daddy’s gaze fell. We could see them there, the first wild violets of spring! Daddy repeated his violet sightings until we had scoured and discovered to our hearts’ content. Such a simple and innocent game held deep meaning for me then and even more so now in retrospect. To me as a child, those moments meant that Daddy could let go of his worry and be fun; that he seemed happy playing with his children and so we must really matter to him; and that all was well with the world. In my young heart, I never doubted that the wild violets would return to greet us every spring; and they would bring with them joy and happiness. This was like a promise from the violets that I held onto deep inside.
And so every year in early spring I go out on the trails to spot the first wild violets. Sometimes it is too early in spring and they have not yet opened their blooms, yet I can expect when I return even in a few days the violets will be in full bloom there in their wild, simple and elegant beauty. Anticipating their return fills me with hope and assurance. For all these years, they have reappeared every spring, and my heart has been filled to overflowing when I see them growing wild in the woods. They are a symbol to me of childlike innocence, happiness, hope and promise. While I realize that not everyone values this small plant in the way that I do (and many consider it a pesky spreading weed) for me the wild violet evokes sweet, happy and innocent childhood memories.
Now as a seasoned adult, I realize that we can never be assured of what the future holds. We cannot know if the violets will forever continue to return spring after spring. We cannot know that even if the wild violets do thrive into the future, whether we humans will be here on this earth to thrive with them; yet we can hold that hope in our hearts. What we do know, though, is that this year, the wild violets have kept their “promise” and have returned once again in the fullness of their simple beauty, and we are here to share life with them. For these moments we can be grateful.
Happy Spring 2022!
Article and photo by Eve Willson
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