The Magic Of Four

While the dogs were running helter skelter across the field at the VA this morning, I was in more of a meandering frame of mind.  It was sunny, already edging toward too warm, while birds chirped and squirrels loudly scolded the boys from high in the tree branches.

I was pondering nothing in particular when I noticed I was walking through a very large section of the field that was blanketed in clover.

In a heartbeat I remember finding my first four-leaf clover; I actually found two of them when I was in grade school. In high school a boyfriend gave me one to press between the pages of a book.  As I stare at the hundreds of perfect shapes at my feet, I try to recall which book...and which boyfriend. Tony maybe?  Or Bobby--he was always good for romantic gestures.  But then again, Greg was quiet and shy, a four-leaf clover would have been his style.

I bend down and lose myself in memory while scanning the multitude of little green leaves; fan my fingers through the threes, looking intently for a four. The dogs grow curious, bound back toward me.  What could I be looking at?  Ozzy burrows into the clover, snorting and sniffing, then looks at me expectantly.  Laughing, I stand up, shoo them away and we carry on walking.

I can't help but wonder why I haven't seen a four-leaf clover since high school.  Is it a kid thing?  Have I lost the ability to find them?  Do they even exist anymore?

But then again...when was the last time I sprawled on my belly in the grass, surrounded by the soft hum of bees as I daydreamed the afternoon away searching--carefully and methodically--for a tiny bit of magic?