The earth is trying to awake. The flowers that I have “installed” in the yard are battered but undefeated. Down to minus temperatures at night and up to double digits in the day, they still persist in their pansy and violet flashes of yellow. The lawn is giving way to tiny purple renegades.

Once I had neighbours on both sides that complained about the inexactitude of my violets volunteering in the green of the lawn. Now both neighbours have moved on and the violets still make a tiny forest of purple.

Strange at times what things we consider passing, transient or insubstantial and which we imbue with importance. The houses on both sides are still the structures they always were but are now totally different. The owners are not measuring and controlling their yards… no yard sticks here to plan the plantings. One is now abandoned looking, derelict as the owner’s marriage collapsed so did his concern with outer structure. The other is festooned with trees, plants, lamps, colored rocks. The once disturbing violets are no longer a focal point but now only a minor note.
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We are so interested in maintaining order, stability, continuity in a life which is written on the wind.

The violets are passing and blooming.