stories and illustration

What’s Wrong with Violets?


When we lived in Liddesdale, on the edge of the Middle March on the Scottish-English Border, each year it would have been difficult to recognise anything that could be designated as Spring.  The cold weather segued into the season of May blossom, which to me seemed to herald the beginning of Summer – next stop the wild roses. Anyway, my small son and I would go for walks, and we would keep an eye out for the violets which grew on a bank not far down the road. And for us those almost invisible violets signified the end of Winter  So the violets were important to us.

My son was privy to a conversation in which the adults were abhorring the violence on television. He came into the room, a tad outraged:  “What’s wrong with violets?  I like violets!”

He had the same sense of things being amiss when he heard on the radio that armed guerrillas had crossed over a faraway country’s borders and were shooting at people.  He didn’t like the idea of gorillas with guns, as he quite liked gorillas too.

April 5, 2014 - Posted by | Photography, Uncategorized | , , , , , , ,

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