Tending spring tapestries
& the medicine of violet
Spring is here and the shop always open!
Spring was never something I noticed until my adult years. Summer marked a break from school, camping, days by the lakes, chasing the ice cream man down the street. Autumn meant Halloween candy and costumes, hayrides and cider mills. Winter of course meant Christmas, sledding, maybe a day or two off from school for a snow day.
But spring just whispered past. I witnessed the snow turn muddy and the days finally begin to warm, but I never really saw this season. My first taste of the true nature of spring was when I lived in Denver. It is a concrete city, but every spring the trees dotting the streets burst into bloom. Cherry and apple blossoms painted every sidewalk and it was then that I got a glimpse of who spring was; a maiden who laughs in the face of frost and the dark stare of winter.
I moved to the woods and my life was changed forever. I hadn’t realized how subdued spring was in the city until I experienced it from within the wild. The woods ring with the gobbling of turkeys, the chorus of frogs, the beating wings of the grouse. Snowdrops, daffodils, violets, coltsfoot, wild strawberry burst into flower just as the frost recedes back into the soil. There is a smell in the air of green things and life returning.
Suddenly spring announced itself as equal to all of the other seasons. I think gardeners can appreciate this more than most. You feel it intimately as you count down until the last frost date, watch the weather forecasts like a hawk, carefully test and tend the waters of this new growing cycle.
Spring is the embodiment of the flowers, trees and shrubs that bloom during this time: ephemeral and fleeting. Let it sweep you up while it can or it may trickle right past like snow melt, she says.
One of my favorite things in the garden this time of year is the tapestry spring weaves. It threads the warp and weft of white wild strawberry blossoms with the purples of various violets and adds accents of yellow dandelion starbursts. It is one of nature’s finest paintings.
Violets in particular are calling my name right now. In Slavic folklore, violet is a symbol of tragic love, virtue, fidelity, but also sadness. This is a strange combination of emotions embodied within this little plant. There is an old Ukrainian folktale that may explain how it could feel so conflicted.