“In the dark you tell me of a flower that only blooms in the violet hour.”

I’m not sure what these words are supposed to mean, I’ve never been good at interpreting the words of other people but they always catch my attention when I hear them in ‘The Violet Hour’ by Sea Wolf. It’s probably because I’ve always had an affinity for the color purple. I find “Roses are red…” to be horribly mistaken, frustratingly so. Violets are purple; not blue.

Love of the color purple is so common that people like me actually have their own special name: purple fanatics. I’m not sure what makes purple so captivating; perhaps because it is a beautiful mixture or several colors.

Love of purple runs in my family. My grandmother made my dad paint every wall in her house the same shade of lavender when my dad was a child. My affinity for purple, along with my natural inclination towards knitting, must come from grandma.

Every time I hear those two words- violet hour- I think of a field of violets, and breathe deeply.