Off the Cuff / My Other Journal

African Violets

The very first poem I wrote was about a purple field violet that grew in the wild. I was in second grade, seven or eight at the time. For its bent neck I had called the flower shy, which made a big impression with the teacher.

Then, I had an aunt who grew African violets and gave them away as gifts. After I got married, I found out one of my husband's aunts, someone I liked at first sight, also had a love for African violets. She had several windowsills filled with African violets.

Over the years, I had plants in the house, but only a couple of African violets, for mostly I worked the garden.

Then, I stopped all my plant involvement stuff due to a sudden onset of allergies. In the meantime, we moved south and the house with the two-acre yard was sold.

I was given a few houseplants as welcome gifts in the new place, but I ended up giving them away. I couldn't take care of them anyhow, due to travels that suddenly sprang up. A few of my better orchids and other plants, I gave to my daughter-in-law, feeling fed-up with asking neighbors to take care of my green crew when we went away.

A couple of weeks ago, I received a gift of an African violet. I put it in an empty windowsill where the light is constant but indirect. It did so well that, yesterday, I gifted myself with three more pots.

It looks like we'll be staying home more, so I hope they will be okay. For short trips for ten days or less, they will survive, because the plants have saucers under them and I water them by filling the saucers once every week or so.

The renewed appearance of African violets merges with my internal landscape well, handling light and shade like a master painter and bringing back memories of loved ones. The leaves with their velvety feel and their petals remind me that purple and magenta hues have always been my favorites.

My windowsill in the dining room looks great and all the plants seem to be healthy so far.