"Wee Cottage Moments" (Image & Text Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
Yesterday, I noticed the wild violets have begun blooming in my yard—small splashes of soft blue and purple nestled among the early spring green. Their petals, delicate and bright, seem to sing a quiet hymn of resilience, a gentle herald of the season’s awakening. There is something deeply comforting about their return each year, as if spring herself has dropped little notes of encouragement onto the earth.
The Ojibwe people, in their deep wisdom and connection to the natural world, called these plants waawiye-bagag, a name inspired by the rounded shape of their petals and leaves. To them, these violets were not only beautiful but practical—both food and medicine. The leaves and flowers were used to treat colds and headaches, a gift from the land not just in sight, but in substance.
Today, many people dismiss wild violets as nothing more than weeds—invaders in their manicured lawns. But I do not. I let them spread freely, weaving their color and charm throughout my yard. To me, they are not intruders. They are guests of honor. Spring has chosen them, and so have I.
There’s a quiet metaphor blooming alongside these violets. In the rush to control, to standardize, to beautify according to narrow ideals, we often forget that diversity is nature’s greatest artistry. Just as we rip out violets for not being grass, we too often dismiss people for not being like us—for their color, their traditions, their languages, their beliefs. We call them “other,” and from there, it’s a short and tragic path to considering them unwanted.
But oh, what we lose when we do that. A garden of only one kind of plant is not a garden—it is a field. It lacks the music of difference, the beauty of unexpected hues. Our world, like my yard, needs its wild violets. It needs the bold, the tender, the different. It needs those who do not fit into tidy boxes. The so-called weeds often carry the oldest wisdom and the most healing.
Let the violets bloom. Let the world bloom. May we grow more comfortable with otherness—not as a threat, but as an invitation to expand our hearts.
And as spring unfolds its petals, may we, too, open gently to the lesson it offers: that all are part of the garden, and all deserve to bloom in peace.
~Wylddane
The Ojibwe people, in their deep wisdom and connection to the natural world, called these plants waawiye-bagag, a name inspired by the rounded shape of their petals and leaves. To them, these violets were not only beautiful but practical—both food and medicine. The leaves and flowers were used to treat colds and headaches, a gift from the land not just in sight, but in substance.
Today, many people dismiss wild violets as nothing more than weeds—invaders in their manicured lawns. But I do not. I let them spread freely, weaving their color and charm throughout my yard. To me, they are not intruders. They are guests of honor. Spring has chosen them, and so have I.
There’s a quiet metaphor blooming alongside these violets. In the rush to control, to standardize, to beautify according to narrow ideals, we often forget that diversity is nature’s greatest artistry. Just as we rip out violets for not being grass, we too often dismiss people for not being like us—for their color, their traditions, their languages, their beliefs. We call them “other,” and from there, it’s a short and tragic path to considering them unwanted.
But oh, what we lose when we do that. A garden of only one kind of plant is not a garden—it is a field. It lacks the music of difference, the beauty of unexpected hues. Our world, like my yard, needs its wild violets. It needs the bold, the tender, the different. It needs those who do not fit into tidy boxes. The so-called weeds often carry the oldest wisdom and the most healing.
Let the violets bloom. Let the world bloom. May we grow more comfortable with otherness—not as a threat, but as an invitation to expand our hearts.
And as spring unfolds its petals, may we, too, open gently to the lesson it offers: that all are part of the garden, and all deserve to bloom in peace.
~Wylddane
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