Violets for almost spring (and my grandmother)

Today it is sunny and one can almost see spring around the corner.

This week I bought a lovely little blue and white jug from Safari Living in Prahran. At $22 it must have been the least expensive thing in the whole shop, which sells so many beautiful things including a wide range of Missoni wares. (In fact I had one of those moments when I thought the shop assistant had made a mistake - my eyes were darting around, I was thinking should I tell her or should I not? In the end honesty got the better of me - as it should - and I checked another jug and there it was, $22 also).

This morning I picked up some violets at the Prahran Market.

And here are the two together. I rather like them this way. I hope the violets don't disappointingly shrivel up and die tomorrow, as they sometimes tend to do.

They don't seem to smell as well as they did when I was little but nevertheless the scent always reminds me of my divine, powdery grandmother, who has been gone now for many many years but whom I remember so fondly.

I can clearly see her oval face, steely gray hair always in a bun as if she had just left the room. I was going to describe her eyes as cornflower blue or delft or some such but in fact having just looked at the rather useful 'shades of blue' entry on Wikipedia (complete with colour chart) I think they were really a steel blue. And that is apt, because like so many ladies of her generation (born in around 1910) she certainly lived through a lot. She had a twin brother, who managed to outlive her by about twenty years. I always thought that was one of the great sadnesses, that their lives did not run more in parallel. It must have been very hard for great uncle George when she was gone.

I remember her dark green cardigan and matching checked kilt skirt. I remember the cumquat tree in her front garden and the jars of marmalade which resulted from that tree. I remember the little glass bottles of coca cola she gave us when we came to visit. I remember her pale butter yellow wooden kitchen. And I remember her calm stillness. I don't think this was because I was little and she was older. I think she really was a calm person. I would like to be more like her.

And although bitter experience has taught me not to mess around with font colours on Blogger, this post is violet for my gran.

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