The row of violet leaves sitting in small, clear vases on my mother’s kitchen windowsill were always fascinating to me. The fuzzy, velvety leaves sprouted thin white roots and then when the roots looked strong enough, I’d help my mother put them in clay pots. Within weeks, a new leaf would pop up, and a few months later, a small violet plant would be vigorously growing and blooming. When my grandmother gave me my first special leaf to start in a vase of water, I was delighted to have my very own violet. It was one I’d admired for its showy double pink blooms. I carefully nurtured the little violet for many months and was proud when it was finally heavy with buds. The sharing of gardens both inside and out has been long family tradition. When I was growing up, no visit to an aunt, grandmother, or cousin was ever complete without a walk through a flower bed or admiring plant laden windowsills. Each one h...
Positively encouraging