I made a quick run through the grocery store today. Outside the doors, these beauties caught my eye.
Pansies are one of my favorite flowers. There are several reasons. One, the colors – hues of purple; royal, violet, lavender, nearly black and the yellows… Ah, the yellows. Pansies also can be tricolored with tangerine orange and silky white.
The name “pansy” is derived from the French word pensèe, meaning “thought”, and was imported into Late Middle English in the mid-15th century. The flower was regarded as a symbol of remembrance. “Love in idleness” is another name for pansies. This is meant to imply the image of a lover who has little or no responsibility other than to think of her beloved.
Another reason I love pansies is that they are velvety soft and delicate but also incredibly resilient. They are hardy. They can survive light freezes and short periods of snow cover. They are not very heat-tolerant (like me). Warm temperatures inhibit blooming and hot muggy air causes rot and death (I’ve felt that way in the summer). Pansies, however, do grow well in sunny or partially sunny spots. They grow best if watered only once a week.
Pansies are not fussy. They are not demanding. They are not complainers. They seek the warmth of the sun. They love a cold drink of water. Other than that, they just sit in their simple beauty, delicately swaying in the the gentle breeze and show their chubby little faces at every opportunity. I cannot look at pansies without returning the sweet little smile they always wear.
I want be a a 60 year-old pansy. I want to not be fussy, not be demanding, not complain. I want to seek out the warmth of the sun and drink in living water. I want to sway and move with the wind and bear the coldness when I must. I want to fiercely stand my ground, yet possess gentle, beautiful, delicacy.
And when others believe me to be weak and soft, I want to wear a smile. The mighty pansy knows that keeping a smile on its face does not change its circumstance. It knows that true strength is found there; that true beauty is found there.
And occasionally, just occasionally, there is love in idleness.