Mar. 17: My quest for luck

When I was in fourth grade one of my friends came in from recess with a four-leaf clover. I was completely fascinated by it; I thought four-leaf clovers existed only in fairy tales. She said she’d found it in the patch of clover on the poorly-landscaped hill next to our playground. (Yes, that’s the same playground wherein, on picture day the year before, I infamously tripped and landed face-first on the asphalt. Thanks for remembering.)

My friend and I spent the next few weeks on that grassy knoll. I was determined to find some four-leaf clovers of my own. Some days I found two or three; some days, none. Other kids would ask why we were sitting in the grass, and sometimes they would join us. It was a cause for celebration when anyone found a four-leaf clover; we hooted and hollered and were positive we’d all have amazing luck for life.

Rainy days were a bummer because the playground attendant broads wouldn’t let us go out in the grass. I was sure on those days that the four leaf clovers were plentiful and by the time I got out there to find them, they’d have withered and died.

I had learned from my mom that flowers and leaves could be saved if they were pressed and dried in big, heavy books. I don’t know how many of my playground discoveries I preserved, but I pretty much saved everything back then. I fully expect that someday I’ll open an old book and my collection of four-leaf clovers will spill out.

Gah. St. Patrick’s Day reminds me: I was such a nerd.