Cohen: He found his first four leaf clover.
Emerson: Inspecting pretty weeds.
Cohen and I both found a four leaf clover this week. I could hardly believe it. Having never found one, the thought of finding two in one day would have seemed completely unlikely. And yet, so it was.
A rainy morning had given way to a sunny afternoon. Cohen scooted up and down the concrete footpath. I followed Emerson as she tottered after him, or explored the yard. I stopped to pick a large clover. Intrigued, Cohen questioned me, as four year olds do. I was reminded of childhood days spent looking for four leaf clovers. He abandoned his scooter to join the search, though his enthusiasm was short lived. Emerson and I followed his scooter up the street again. At the next house, just by the letter box, something caught my eye. Standing a little prouder than the rest - my first four leaf clover.
What a wonderful feeling it is to find such a rare little weed. My childhood self would have been exceptionally happy, and my thirty one year old self wasn't too far behind. Cohen's eyes grew wide and he declared that he wanted my four leaf clover. Protectively, I suggested he might like to find his own. I was already imaging pressing it between the pages of book. Then, sitting on our drive way, intent upon the task, he did.
Now two four leaf clovers are drying inside the pages of books in our home.
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Two of my favourite portraits from last week - a sweet little face inside a dot, chevrons, spots, stripes and beautiful eyes.
