Love in idleness
A tiny pansy* blooms, then dozens. It is no small wonder to me. Glaringly, nakedly, blatantly metaphorical, those hard lump seeds I planted in April encapsulated more than whiskered jump-up faces. They are growth, change, possibility, hope, tenacity, resiliency, triumph, beauty, bravery, persistence, trust, community and gumption. Unfurling small miracles with each half-inch bloom, the hope of pansies is sweet. Today I don’t have to depend on it. I smile at the contrasts and commonalities between the blooms, a touch of whimsy, an air of grace. Tomorrow I may need the reminder. In a world that hands out injustice and pain at an alarming rate, I keep small miracles close.
*My little “Johnny Jump Up” is a wildflower long-admired and long-granted properties to cure everything from lovesickness to rheumatism. It is not a surprise that this viola tricolor has so many monikers: heart’s ease, heart’s delight, tickle-my-fancy, Jack-jump-up-and-kiss-me, come-and-cuddle-me, three faces in a hood, love-in-idleness, love idol, call-me-to-you, meet-me-in-the-entry, kiss-her-in-the-buttery (!!!), kit-run-in-the-fields, pink-o’-the-eye, godfathers and godmothers, pink-eyed-John, bouncing bet. In Spanish and French their name translates as “thoughts.”