A Wild Delight

A Wild Delight Heidi Hartwiger In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through a man. —Ralph Waldo Emerson Excuse me, please, as I borrow from Mr. Emerson to say that in the presence of violets a wild delight runs through me. It goes way back, this passion I have for violets. As a matter of fact, I can't recall life without violets. During World War II I lived at Frog Hollow Farm with my grandparents. Whether I worked in the garden alongside my grandmother or sat on her lap for a story, I smelled violets. The secret source was violet water splashed on the hankie forever tucked in her sleeve or buried deep in her apron pocket. In those joyous days at Frog Hollow while young and low to the ground, I took close notice of spring signs in winter-brown grasses. To this day as the ground thaws, and I discover the first violet in the green up beneath my feet, a wild delight runs through me. Evidently, I am not alone. Violets have a celebrated history of usefulness as well as the subject of much lore. Violets, reported to be distant cousins of the domesticated pansy, are considered demure and one of the flowers associated with Mary, Mother of Christ. Perhaps they have earned this reputation because their little faces often tilt toward earth in shy modesty. At times I have suspected those little faces turn earthward plotting in which direction to spread. Lovely and delicate as they seem, violets are deceptively hardy and will take over if left unchecked. Then again it might be Zeus's doing that violets are so persistent. The amorous Greek god Zeus, married to Hera, was smitten with the Sidney Greer Hartwiger keeps busy working with herbs, writing books, and teaching school. She comes from a long line going back to 16th century Scotland, where the first-born of a Sidney was named Sidney. To save confusion in the household where there were already two Sidneys (mother and grandfather) the current Sidney is called Heidi. She now has a son named Sidney. 77 nymph ??. Some say to shield Io from Hera's wrath, Zeus changed his lover into a heifer. The delicate Io, unaccustomed to the coarse pasture grass, wept. Pitying her, Zeus transformed her tears into violets. Historically , violets have been awarded as prizes and given as love tokens. Napoleon Bonaparte's followers adopted the violet for their political insignia. Moving beyond its beauty, the prolific interbreeding violet has proved its worth as a medicinal, aromatic, and culinary plant. While some may scoff at the versatility of violets, I smile, knowing many useful ideas have come full circle. It is reported that women in ancient Rome used violets mixed with other things for soft fragrant skin. Perhaps those who pay a pretty penny for bath herbs are unaware how simple and satisfying it is to prepare personal bath-herb blends. Dried violet petals and leaves were a mainstay in my grandmother's bath remedy for dry chapped skin. She crumbled the dried petals and leaves with oatmeal, rosemary, and bay leaves into warm bath-water. Pliny the Elder, an ancient Roman historian, suggested adorning oneself with a garland of violets to prevent drunkenness and recommended ingesting violets for a good night's sleep. Surprise! While the flowers do not prevent drunkenness, brewed into tea, they will ease a headache and encourage sleep. It should come as no surprise that violets and their leaves are respectable ingredients in modern cough syrup and gargles since Nicholas Culpeper, the seventeenth century astrologer/physician, recommended an infusion ofviolet flowers for pleurisy and other respiratory afflictions. Could he have been aware of the high concentration of vitamins A and C in violets? Culpeper referred to the violet as "mild in nature" and suggested a violet-leaf poultice be applied for relief of swollen and inflamed skin. Made into a compress, blossoms and leaves do provide comfort to sldn irritations and bedsores. Although some people choose not to accept violets as medicináis, the same adults are on hands and knees in the grass alongside children when the mighty, perhaps instinctive, urge to gather...