I've been picking violets from the "violet patch" in the backyard. There are three kinds growing there: a yellow-white violet that apparently came in a bucket of peonies that were transplanted from the DH's late aunt's yard, the standard "violets are blue" violets--which are actually purple--and the ones in the photograph.
This purple and white variety is my favorite because they remind me of the locket my dad gave my mom when they were courting. It was during the War (WW II, that would be). He was stationed at Fort Bragg, and I think he bought it at a jewelry store in Albemarle when he was thumbing his way from Fayetteville to Rockwell to see her. It was gold and mother-of-pearl, and on the mother-of-pearl was a three-dimensional enamel violet with an amethyst in the center. The violet looked like one of these--and almost as real.
When I was a little girl, I used to beg her to let me see it, and she'd stop what she was doing and get the red velvet box just so I could admire it. I actually wore it once--when I was fourteen. I can't quite recall the occasion--something to do with school--but I remember the thrill of actually having the locket on.
Can you imagine what it looked like? It was truly a unique and beautiful piece of jewelry. In all these years, I've never seen another one like it.
The sad part is that the locket is now lost and gone forever, but every time these violets bloom, I remember...