Thursday, April 22, 2004

Seven Clovers
Seven. Seven clovers. Seven four-leafed clovers. Now, it might just be a fluke, and I tend to think it is, because before I filed the complaint, I could never find them. They, for me, simply did not exist. They didn't grow where I would walk. They were not. Then, I met this girl. Sadly, I do not remember her name. However, she did have this fabulous purple scarf! She was able to find four-leafed clovers like I never thought possible. She was able to find such clovers in mine own lawn! I was green in my envy. Why are some blessed with the four-leafed clover finding gift when I had been passed over? Oh, the misery...

When returning from Sunday tea, I complained loudly. Why could I never find four-leafed clovers? Why could some find such clovers in abundance while I sought in vain? Why? I sighed and cast my stare downward. I stopped abruptly. No. Not possible. Pas possible! (You know it's even more incredible when it's en Fran├žais...) There were, staring back at me, two perfectly formed four-leafed clovers basking in the warm spring sun. I crouched down and plucked them from where they grew. A selfish act? Possibly. I was ridding the ground of two exquist four-leafed clovers. However, I had the suspicion that such clovers grew all around me and my eyes had simply not been open to see them until this point. I held the clovers gently in my hands and put them in water when I got home. I smiled.

In the following days, I found aproximatly five more four-leafed clovers. It was about three days ago that I found my last clover. Perhaps I am not meant to find more. Perhaps those precious seven clovers were simple to open my eyes to such possibilites that surround me daily. Such possibilites that I walk pass every day. Those clovers currently reside in a small glass of water on our coffee table. I fear that if I leave them there for long enough, that small glass of water will turn into a small coffee table swamp. If that does happen, I will add frogs, fish, and lillies, if they have not already bloomed within the swamps own doings. I hope, however, that I might find the time to press those clovers into contact paper before such life is brought to our home.

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