And like many aspects of the Victorians, violets look intricate and delicate, but they are resilient. I've watched my grandmother's single flower bed of ground cover take over entire sections of her lawn. I asked her to dig me up a few to transplant into the first garden I assembled in 2002. In the heat of a California July, I left them in the trunk of my car and completely forgot about them for weeks. When I found them, withered and dry, I tossed the roots into the compost pile. Days later, there they were, vibrant green and standing proudly atop the pile, thriving and daring me to try and kill them. I transplanted the two plants into my flower bed and within a year they were covering a six-foot section and overflowing the edges. Delicate though they may look, they are deceptively tough.
I concocted the name for my business plan as something indicative of me and my talents. At the time, it was a bridal consultancy, but I intended it to be used on any business I might begin, including eventually a small horse farm. But since moving from California, I haven't had a place to apply Violet Hill.
While working on a farm here in Kentucky, during some of the most difficult days of the assignment (February), it was a surprise to find delicate spots of purple peeking from the grass emerging from the mud in the pastures. Low and behold, violets grow wild here, and so the name became a symbol once again.
I realize that I give the name to endeavors which I am passionate about and that I pour myself into. Things that give me great joy. First a bridal consultancy, now this blog and eventually, hopefully a business that isn't just a job, but that I love running while partially providing for our family. Ultimately, it will be piece of property on which I build our dream home, ride horses, raise children, grow a garden, write and work on my projects.
So Violet Hill is a place. Figuratively, my happy place. Which is slowly coming to real life. :)
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