"Admire me I am a violet!"

Something no self-respecting violet would ever say, according to poet John Keats in a letter to a friend; in his view, "retired" flowers like violets and primroses would lose their beauty if they called attention to themselves. With all due respect to Keats, when the common blue violet is in bloom in its thousands in an Ohio April, the spectacle is pretty attention-getting. I have never taken a photo that does justice to the show, but the swaths of deep purple resting just above the deepest spring green in every Marietta park are not exactly shy about making their presence known.

And why should they be? Violets are not only an indestructible ground cover, they are the sole larval host for the great spangled fritillary, one of our most beautiful butterflies, and a major early pollen source. They deserve to strut their stuff.

But the flowers we think of when we hear the word "violet" are not the only types. Besides numerous species of purple violets that I am not in good enough shape to identify (since me crawling around on  the ground with a magnifying glass would be a whole other kind of spectacle), Ohio also boasts violets of other colors. For several decades now I have looked forward to the shy blooming of the white violets descended from the patch in a deceased friend's yard. Unlike their common cousins, white violets do not spread aggressively but keep within bounds and play well with others.

And yesterday I saw my first specimens of a violet I had not known existed, the (supposedly) common yellow violet (Viola pubescens), growing in several areas of Wildwood Metropark. This little beauty is pickier about siting than Viola sororia, preferring to grow in relatively undisturbed soil in forested areas.

As far as I know, this particular violet does not grow in England, but it behaves much more like those Keats described. Those of us who want to appreciate it will need to seek it out; it won't shove itself in our faces.