Violet, you're turning violet.

Every time I mow the grass I think of the bees.

This time of year, and throughout mowing season, there is not only grass in my yard(s), but various wild plants (weeds), clover, and flowering things, including teeny tiny violets. Most of them are purple, but there is also the odd purple and white striped one to be found.

I know that some little bee must dine on the violets with their delicate bottom lip of a petal inviting them to have a bite of nectar and take some pollen home for the larvae. Each time I mow one down I feel a twinge, an anxious feeling that I've done damage to the local bee population.

This is totally ridiculous, but the feeling is there. I know that the weed killer my neighbors use is doing more damage than my irregular mowing. I know that there will be more flowers covering my yard(s) in another day or two.

In a lot of ways, I wish I could remove all of the grass and just leave the clover and violets to do their thing all year. They are more green, more lush, more vibrant than the crabgrass I constantly pull out of my flower and vegetable beds.

If I weren't so afraid of something hiding in tall grass and biting me, I'd mow more rarely. For now, I will continue to reluctantly shred the violets as I make sure to keep within yard ordinances. I'll also continue to admire them, and leave patches of purple blossoms whenever and wherever I am able.