Pansies were my first floral love. As a child, I encountered these winsome blooms along the garden paths of my great-grandmother’s home, pausing every few steps to admire their sweet, smiling faces. These tiny plants felt like kindred spirits – their small stature matched my own – and their beguiling expressions beckoned me ever closer, as though each blossom held a secret meant only for me.

            I haven’t forgotten that delight, and so each spring I tuck pansies into my window boxes to welcome the changing seasons. When summer’s heat finally overtakes them, I gently move the weary plants to a shady corner of the garden in hopes they will continue to bloom a little longer. “Pansies have charmed gardeners for centuries, descended from the tiny Johnny-jump-ups that once grew wild in open fields,” writes Emelie Tolley in her book A Potpourri of Pansies, adding: “Over time, they have served many roles – featured in lovers’ potions and medicinal remedies, scattered as decorative garnishes upon the table, and dried into fragrant potpourris – yet their greatest gift may simply be the joy contained within each cheerful face.”

            The author notes that by the mid-19th century, pansies had been carefully hybridized into the large-flowered, richly colored blooms familiar to gardeners today. A full-fledged “pansy mania” soon followed, as the flowers were cultivated for exhibition and celebrated as fashionable bedding plants. Before long, their charming faces appeared everywhere – adorning China, paintings, and decorative objects throughout the Victorian era.

            The word “pansy” is derived from the French word pensée, meaning “thought” or “remembrance.” In the language of flowers, pansies conveyed the sentiment “thoughts of you,” and countless postcards of the period were embellished with their likeness. I have one such card bearing a New Bedford postmark from 1908. It features a lucky gold horseshoe framing a small countryside scene, surrounded by pink dogwood blossoms and purple pansies. The handwritten message is intriguing, almost cryptic: “Five o’clock Sunday all alone. I am going to the P. Church fair tomorrow night. Wish you were here. JS.”

            Such postcards were part of the Golden Age of Postcards, a remarkable cultural craze that flourished from about 1907 to 1915. During those years, hundreds of millions of beautifully illustrated picture postcards were mailed annually, serving as the inexpensive and accessible “text messages” of their day.

            That little postcard brings me to another truth about pansies. The garden pansy we know today was developed from wild members of the Viola family. In fact, all pansies are violas, but not all violas are pansies. Pansies generally bear larger flowers, while violas make up for their smaller blooms by flowering more abundantly.

            The entire group belongs to the genus Viola, which includes pansies, violas, violettas, and violets. These cheerful flowers have delighted gardeners for centuries with their jewel-like colors and expressive faces.

            Among the most beloved members of the family is the Johnny-jump-up (Viola tricolor), often called the European wild pansy. It has been a familiar sight in American gardens for so long that some gardeners like to imagine it arrived with the earliest settlers on the Mayflower. Whether or not that tale holds any truth, its popularity is undeniable.

            Over the years, Johnny-jump-up has collected a charming assortment of folk names, including “three faces in a hood,” “love in idleness (mentioned in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream),” “cull-me-to-you,” and “heart’s ease.” Such names reflect the flower’s long history in cottage gardens and its reputation for bringing comfort and cheer. It is easy to understand their affection. The blossoms seem almost to smile back at us.

            But I digress.

            Every spring I happily welcome these lovelies back into my garden. They spill from my window boxes in a tapestry of color akin to a stained-glass window, their beguiling velvety faces lifting my spirits every time I pass by or look out from said windows. Rather than planting just one or two colors, I delight in a kaleidoscope of hues: blue, yellow, purple, lavender, white, rust, pink, orange, bronze, and even velvety black. Some blooms are a single color; others are splashed, whiskered, bicolored, or tricolored. And then there is their fragrance – lightly sweet and delicate, all the more enchanting because it reveals itself only when one pauses long enough to lean in and enjoy it.

            Whether you buy plants from the nursery or start from seed, division, or cuttings, pansies are easy to grow. To grow them from seed Tolley advises sowing the tiny seeds indoors in flats in late winter (in cool climates), covering them with 1/16 inch of soil, keeping them warm during the day and relatively cool at night. Or sow them outdoors in very early spring or in late summer for the following spring. Seeds germinate in one to three weeks. When they are two inches tall it’s time to harden them off and plant as soon as the ground can be worked. Pansies are heavy feeders and will enjoy all-purpose fertilizer or compost and sand into the soil before planting to ensure ample nutrients and good drainage. Be sure to pinch back stems and deadhead regularly to encourage more blossoming.

            When the weather gets hot pansies will wane and become leggy. When this happens, cut the plants way back, feed them well, and move to a cooler location. You’ll see them perk up when the cooler weather comes.

            Tolley’s book expands on the uses for pansies as well as how to make potpourri. After allowing the petals to dry, mix with sweet-smelling dried herbs and oak moss tossed with fragrant oil. Here is a recipe:

            4 parts each dried narcissus blossoms, dried geranium petals, air-dried pansies, air-dried delphinium petals, and bay leaves.

            2 parts each dried woodruff and dried lemon verbena.

            1 part each dried orange rind, whole cloves, oak moss and coriander seeds.

            6 drops rose geranium oil, 4 drops bergamot oil, and 2 drops cinnamon oil for every ½ pound dry mixture.

            Whole pansies dried in silica gel.

            Combine all ingredients except the whole pansies and allow to mellow in a tightly sealed jar for several weeks. Display in a bowl of your choice and scatter whole pansies on top. Tolley’s small book, which is beautifully illustrated with gorgeous photos by Chris Mead, abounds with ideas ranging from culinary uses and arranging hints to arts and craft projects. Like the garden counterparts, it’s a true delight.

            Ophelia’s iconic lines from Shakespeare’s Hamlet (Act 4, scene 5) remind us of the deep emotional power flowers can carry: There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies, that’s for thoughts.

The Seaside Garden

By Laura McLean

            This is the continuing monthly column for the astronomer in all of us, or the aspiring astro-physicist. Compared to areas near Boston or New Bedford, generally speaking, the Tri-Town has pretty good dark skies and thus are very fortunate in that regard.

            Well, let’s touch on that airburst meteor explosion a few days ago while we’re on the subject of space. Last Sunday, at around 2:00 pm, there was a loud rumble that nearly everyone in eastern New England heard. The sound was a sonic boom from a meteor darting through the atmosphere and breaking up right over the middle of Cape Cod Bay.

            In a statement released by NASA on June 1, they say a 5-foot-wide asteroid entered the atmosphere traveling around 42,000 mph before disintegrating around 31 miles in the air. The force of its sonic boom and break up led to a loud explosion, assumed by many to be thunder or a tree falling, for hundreds of miles away. NASA added, “Based on the latest data, the energy released at breakup is estimated to be equivalent to about 230 tons of TNT.” No damage was reported.

            Now let’s get back to looking up at the sky following this reminder that we are very much a part of space. June sees the reemergence of the “Summer Triangle,” or the stellar triangle produced by the stars Altair, Deneb, and Vega visible above the entirety of the Northern Hemisphere.

            The daytime Arietids meteor shower occurs between May 22 and June 24, peaking on June 7 with around 60 meteors per hour. The location of the meteors in the sky is relatively close to our view of the Sun, making the sighting of these shooting stars a bit difficult. The best tike is in the early morning, towards the east near the horizon.

            On June 15, there will be a New Moon, making this time the best to view faint stellar objects like nebulae and galaxies.

            On June 21, the Summer Solstice occurs with the Sun directly over the Tropic of Cancer and the North Pole tipped toward it. Summer officially begins in the Northern Hemisphere!

            The June Boötids meteor shower will occur between June 22 and July 2, peaking on June 27 with a minimal 1-to-2 meteors per hour. 

            On June 29, a Full Moon will occur. This first Full Moon of summer is sometimes referred to as the “Strawberry Moon,” “Rose Moon,” or “Honey Moon” by various groups.

Astronomy Update for June

By Sam Bishop