I discover the wood violets growing in the forest today. I’ve always loved violets and how, one day in spring when you’re not expecting them, they carpet the whole path. As I thought about their delicate beauty, I found myself thinking of being very young and finding violets in the woods as a girl. So long ago!
I admire the violets for their hardy growth, right there in the barren, snowy winter forest now melted, and I always think of violets as a display of God’s kind creativity in sending something purple into the brown landscape. It feels royal and luxurious and too good to be true.
I once wished to emerge like this—as we all do in some way—to be on display.
But then I learn a new word regarding these showy violets: myrmecochory.
It means “seed dispersal by ants.” Violets depend upon myrmecochory to survive. They need ants! The tiny ants gather the seeds from the violets, take them back to their nests, eat them, and then discard them where they will germinate. I find myself marveling, especially when I learn that scientists believe up to 23,000 plant species depend upon seed dispersal by ants.
All this time, I wondered if I could see myself as the beautiful violet, blooming in time after a harsh winter, pushing up new growth through the decaying, stick-strewn landscape. As I’ve aged, I see myself in a different way: as the ant.
I gather up truth and beauty and wisdom and disperse it to germinate. I don’t have to be the center of attention or the one on display; I can do the work of myrmecochory to help others bloom in all their beauty. Aging means myrmecochory, but it also means doing the work of gathering and digesting wisdom to disperse.
