Strolling through the hills on my (mostly) usual afternoon walk with Charlie, I notice the vibrant green bunches of clover dotting the hillside, little yellow buds poking out of the bunchs attached by winding vine-like stems. I notice the bright green, almost flourescent color, and the perfection of each little clover with its heart-shaped leaves. Thought of spring come on this Groundhog Day. It is predicted to be an early one but this cloudy day offers little evidence of the sunny days to come. Only the clovers springing up through the mud left from last week’s rain give me the light feeling of winter’s end approaching in a month or so.
I appreciate the simple little clovers and only after observing them for a few minutes, realize that I am supposed to be looking for a four-leaf clover. Perfection. There isn’t one, of course. Perfection isn’t always readily available so why do we search for it, scold ourselves for not achieving it and judge ourselves and others with perfection as the barometer? It is a human condition to reflect on the past and the “if only” that result from those sad recollections. To worry about the future and the unknown events that await.
Arriving home, Charlie is not content to stay inside just yet so we wander in the yard and relax on his favorite lounge chair. Here he is content. I gaze forward at the mountains across the Valley and notice for the first time that I can see a mountain range beyond the first set. For a cloudy day the visibility is exceptional. A little sliver of sky remains under the clouds and it is that sliver that allows me to peek beyond the first barrier of mountains. Breathing. In and out. With Charlie resting between my legs, but poised, observing every little bird, every leaf moving slightly in the slight breeze, I am able to rest in the present.
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