Some winter violets for turbulent times

Given the nature of this website and my business, this has been an uncomfortable week for me, to say the least. The antipathy many Americans are feeling toward the French because of Chirac's position on Iraq can't help but boil over and touch me. I certainly do not want to get into a political discussion on this page. I only want to say that the world is a small place, and most of its inhabitants live in much closer proximity to each other--country to country--than the U.S. does. Most of the world's inhabitants know what it is to have a major war played out on their own territory, and just as traumatic and difficult, dealing with the aftermath of war. Small countries must learn to cooperate and listen to the voices of their neighbors; they don't have the luxury of not doing so.

So history and geography conspire to give Europe a different perspective on the dilemma of Iraq. Most Europeans don't believe that a war should never be fought, but simply that all other alternatives must be exhausted before we turn to that "ultimate solution." And believe me, especially France very much figures the terrorist threat into that equation, having suffered many, many attacks over the years.

France and the United States have been staunch friends for longer than any of us can remember. Let's trust that our two nations will weather this storm by agreeing on the best solution for all concerned. As an American living in France, I can report first-hand that there is no animosity toward Americans on the part of the French people or government, for that matter. But most French people disagree with the policies of the current U.S. administration. That is an important distinction.

Meanwhile, it's been a cold winter in Paris, as I've heard it's been in the U.S. as well. Nevertheless, the wonderfully perfumed, winter-blooming Parma violets are starting to appear here and there in the flower stands. These are the violets that Sinatra sung about..."I'll buy you violets for your furs." They are always sold with their stems tightly bundled together, and a collar of their heart-shaped leaves framing the little bunch of intensely blue-violet, velvety flowers. They seem so fragile, I can't even imagine how they make it through the chain of the floral trade and into the markets. Yet their fragrance, at once piercingly sweet and ethereal, is all out of proportion to their size.

Seeing Parma violets show up now during this troubled week makes me reflect on whether vendors still sold bunches of violets on Paris streetcorners during the grim throes of the Second World War. I hope so. I like to think that people cling to nature's fragile beauty during difficulty, and are cheered by the sight of these sweet blossoms that bloom no matter what the craziness of the human world, even during the coldest part of the year.

Share