Wild Violets: City Herbs, Part Two

Spring is a strange, wonderful season. It two-steps with Winter for a while, the first crocuses and green leaves appearing only to be covered by another late snowfall. Then, finally, there comes a day when the violets start unfurling their leaves and I know that the dance with Winter is almost over and the heart of Spring is about to begin.

Violets (Viola tricolor and V. odorata) seem to have found a niche in human regard that is neither "weed" nor "ornamental". While the dandelions and chickweed that share the season are relentlessly pulled out of garden plots, no one raises an eyebrow when I let the wild violets spread. Yet violets can be as invasive as any other volunteer plant, and their knobby roots hold tightly to the earth making them hard to dig out. Perhaps it is because Violet was once a common name for girl-children (I've never heard of anybody naming their daughter Dandelion), and because violets appear in so many poems.

The purple blooms that appear above the toothed, heart-shaped leaves do not produce seed, and seem to exist for no other reason than to celebrate the arrival of Spring. Where I live in North America, they have no fragrance, but in Europe they have an elusive scent and have been used to flavor everything from cordials to smoker's chewing gum. The fertile, inconspicuous brown flowers come along later in the year, hidden under the leaves. Sometimes you can spot the dry capsule that splits into three sections lined with bead-like seeds.

Sometime in herstory violets were a woodland plant. Many of them long since moved to urban areas, where they tend to appear in lightly shaded areas of gardens and city parks. This delicate looking plant is adaptable, however, and also turns up in full sun. Or just about anywhere: one violet plant grew out of the drainage holes on the bottom of one of our window boxes, and this past Winter violets appeared in one of the container plants that I brought indoors.

As with so many wild plants, violets are both food and medicine. In the Wise Woman tradition, nourishment is an important kind of medicine. Why shouldn't what is good for you also taste good? A salad of tender violet leaves, a green cup of soothing tea...

Remember when Mom used to say, "Ssh, it's okay, you're going to be fine"? Think of Violet medicine that way. When something is irritated and anxious and needs soothing, this herb works gently to calm, ease, dissolve. Violets come to the rescue for overworked lungs and the type of cough that hangs on long after other cold symptoms have healed. A salve of violet leaves relieves sore, premenstrual breasts. Use violet leaf tea or compresses for swollen glands and lymph nodes. They have also been used to treat cysts. Violet blossoms (the purple, showy ones) open the heart and make it feel safe to release long-held tears. Violet reminds us that sometimes gentleness is more effective than anything else.