Some things in life there never seem to be enough of: hours in the day, money, vacation, coffee, romance. For me, there is one thing in particular I never seem to run out of.
Call it luck, call it coincidence, call it just plain spooky. However you consider it, I have the knack for finding four-leaf clovers.
I find them nearly everywhere I go. Usually when I scan a patch of clover as I run past on the bike path, something stops me in my tracks and begs a closer look and behold! A four-leaf clover.
For me, there seems to be an unending abundance of these supposedly rare wonders of nature, the coveted clovers of four leaves we searched and searched for as children at recess or in the backyard, hoping to be the lucky one to find one and bring it in to school to show everyone how special the fates must’ve found you for you have been granted a four-leaf clover.
I wasn’t always this ‘lucky,’ though. Up until my mid-thirties, I had never even seen a real four-leaf clover, and I had spent the time looking for one.
It was Memorial Day 2012 at my sister’s home in Avon when I found my first one. And it was more than just one that I plucked out from the cracks between the backyard patio near the wooden stairs to the deck – six, in fact! I had a fistful of four-leaf clovers that would leave any leprechaun green with envy.
A year later, I found an enchanted patch of clover outside my apartment and picked myself a bouquet of four-, five-, even six-leaf clovers – a veritable windfall of them, a jackpot of sorts.
While staring at my little vase of lucky clovers, I thought of my Irish Nana who had passed away two years prior. I had never found a four-leaf clover before Nana died, and the sentiment behind them made me think of her and remember how lovely she was: how her red hair was always curled and coiffed, her floral blouses perfectly pressed and scented of perfume, her pale blue eyes that smiled, presumably in that way that Irish eyes are alleged to do.
In the ensuing months and years, I was finding them everywhere I went. People with me would shake their heads, bewildered, stumped by the uncommon uncanniness of it all.
At some point, it just started getting scary how often I would find a four-leaf clover. For days in a row, I would find at least one, two, three, even four or five during the course of a day. What the heck is with me and four-leaf clovers?
I was finding so many four-, five-, and six-leaf clovers that I could no longer keep up with the collection of them. I was giving them away to anybody and everybody around me. The mother pushing the stroller up the bike path, the elderly woman walking out of Stop & Shop to her car, the stranger who came up to me as I scanned the ground with the palm of my hand, asking if I needed help with something, co-workers, friends, and family. After all, I had all the luck I needed, why hoard it all for myself?
With each clover that I found, I would whisper “Nana” and thank her for sending it to me, assuming that to be a viable reason for finding so bloody many of them all the time. What else could be behind a hundred four-leaf clovers?
Is there some random quirky fold in the fabric of existence? Is my unconscious mind simply sharp at spotting them? Are four-leaf clovers growing in population and I’m just the only one noticing? What in the name of all that is rational is the reason for all this seeming good luck?
I quite prefer the thought of my Irish Nana sending them to me as the most reasonable of reasons.
For this St. Patrick’s Day cover photo, I specifically went out hunting in Mattapoisett with the intent to photograph a four-leaf clover. My thoughts of Nana are always stronger on this day of the year and I knew – of course I knew after all this time and a hundred four-leaf clovers later – that I would indeed find one for the cover. It may not be the greenest or most succulent I’ve ever spotted, but nonetheless, I found my St. Patrick’s Day four-leaf clover.
I snapped the photo, said ‘hi’ and ‘thank you’ to Nana, and seeing that no one was around to whom I could give it, I left the clover there for another day.
Call it weird, call it coincidence, call it a sign from the Universe, call it the luck of the Irish, call it whatever. Whatever it may be adds a certain flavor of magic to my life finding four-leaf clovers all over the place.
Sure, four-leaf clovers may not have any monetary value in this physical dimension, and I’m certainly no wealthy woman. But maybe, perhaps, somewhere out there exists another dimension where four-leaf clovers are currency that can be used to buy rainbows and sunshine, and I’m the richest in the land.
(Happy St. Paddy’s Day, Nana…)
By Jean Perry
I so love this.