I bought the African violet
because it reminded me of my
Grandmother.
There was always something
growing
on the kitchen windowsill.
A violet.
Beans sprouting on a saucer.
An avocado pit in water.
She was always
planting.
Tending.
Helping things grow.
Seeds.
Water.
Sunlight.
When I bought this
violet
it was purple.
I’m sure of it.
Its single bloom
a deep hue
against the furry green leaves.
I smile every
time I look at it.
I remember her
windowsill,
sunny kitchen.
Afternoons baking.
Or weeding in the
garden.
I’ve always loved weeding.
Grabbing the encroaching
plant
by its neck and
yanking it out.
The key is to use a
single tug.
Make sure the
root comes out too.
Monotonous, satisfying work.
The purple petals wilted.
Dried.
Fell off the plant.
The leaves stayed
green and healthy.
I watered when
I remembered.
This bloom is
white, tinged with purple.
Still an African violet.
I smile when I look
at it.
I keep it close.
It reminds me of
my Grandmother.
This post was inspired by the prompt “Seeds” and written today in an online writing group with the magnificent Jena Schwartz. Jena encouraged me to play with line breaks: “No matter what words come, follow them to wherever they wish to be planted.”
Red Boots 
I literally bought the same African violet for my dad recently because it reminded me of my grandmother, who always had 5-6 of them going at once.
Beautiful!
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Thank you! Your story about your dad and grandmother warms my heart. Thank you for sharing it with me :).
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I love the idea of line breaks for this one.
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I really enjoyed playing with the meaning this way!
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Makes me remember the Rita that was ! She tended her Violets with such care and passion whereas I killed then mercilessly by wetting leaves and failing to tend them enough ( I now do that to orchids ). You brought back the 3 homes Peter’s folks lived in and the always glorious display of purple violets in a gorgeous copper container on the coffee table. Evocative indeed.
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Ooooh copper pots of violets sound like a must-have! Thanks Terry.
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Love. My grandmother kept an African violet on her windowsill too, an often an avocado pit. I had forgotten about that until now. Beautiful verse, Nix. And thank you for helping me remember.
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Aah I love that our grandmothers had similar behaviors, and on opposite sides of the world! xo
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What s lovely post. African Violets remind me of my mother too. She always had one on her window sill.
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That’s lovely Miriam. Makes me smile. Thank you!
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My absolute pleasure.
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the avocado pit just brought so many memories of my grandmother as well. I miss her dearly, I shall always remember window sills of pits lol
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Lovely memories 🙂
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This is lovely. 🙂
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Thank you Jenn!
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i like your article, very inspiring, thank you for your post
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Thank you!
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I am so glad to find your such a lovely blog Nicki, I am an English learner and I hope to learn and fun with your stories, have a nice evening from Turkey 🙂
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Thank you! I have visited Istanbul- what a beautiful city.
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It must be in the handbook that all grandmothers must grow something in the kitchen windowsill or be drummed out of the “grands” club. My grandmother too had violets and herbs growing in her windowsill. AND for the last ten years or so, that I’ve been a grandmother, my windowsill serves as part medicine cabinet and part garden.
Enjoy your posts!
Annie @ theologians.com
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Thank you Annie! Love that description: “part medicine cabinet and part garden.” 🙂
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