Thinking about flowers in the rain, in the wet weather.
Violets are such charming, tiny things. We never really get to see bunches of violets like people used to sell (My Fair Lady) but I've had the pleasure of seeing bunches at the Flower Market and they are really something to bury your nose in. A soft little bundle, ruffled and sweet. My grandma had a lot of things with violets on them, mostly because she liked the color purple. She even wrote checks in purple ink! I remember she had sheets with violets all over them; a teacup, a trivet.
When I lived at that house, one wet spring there was a violet growing right out of the wood on the porch. It was the smallest little leaf and flower. A miniature version of an already small thing.
I loved how an old thing, like that rotting board, could sprout such a new thing. And what a new thing--like a baby that violet, so perfect and tiny. It was a lovely thing to watch, but I still had to remind myself not to step right on it when I went out. What's that about?!