Each year the patch of humble violets at the pond grows larger, and that makes me happy. Dangling downward on bent stems, the beautiful blooms invite closer inspection; and this requires hands and knees. I consider it well worth the effort and eagerly begin my descent while wondering why they hang their heads as if to hide their beauty when a slight turn skyward could capture the glance and admiration of every passerby — not that there are many. (How I love our pretty private corner of this hill!) I lift this violet ever-so-slightly to admire its dainty details before gently releasing it to return to its natural nod. I conclude that the violets' humility makes them all the sweeter and then question: to pick or not to pick?
