The Violets of William Henry Blue

There was a man in England known to his mother as William Henry Blue who was quite notorious for his unhealthy appetites and his tendency to marry repeatedly. Sinister reputations aside his skill as a gardener was less well known. But long after his hasty untidy death, people came from as far away as Wales and Scotland to walk through the hedge enclosed gardens behind the house that had been his. Orchids are beautiful flowers but they are best grown in hot houses. The wild orchid is a solitary beast shunned by a man such as William who was ever tending to his wives.

Roses are also a beautiful flower but when left to their own devices they grow in a manner most frenzied. Such a wild lack of control poorly suited William. His unique passion were violets. Pale and oh-so-unassuming violets naturally congregate in a flock for only the most humble of flowers can so enjoy the company of their own kind. They have no thorns and require little in the way of care. In fact when the direct light of day falls on a single violet it wilts and seems to contract into the soil of its birth. This is widely known. William's genius however was his realization that the sad quiet violet thrives on a moist soil rich in iron and other minerals. But unlike the gardenia, which often thrives in a graveyard and smells strongest when the flower is half-rotten, a violet is assiduously, meticulously scrupulous in what it will or will not consume.