AMBIENT THOUGHT – EPISODE One Hundred Forty Four: Clover

The following and all of the other episodes to come are snapshots of what goes on in my head, now and in the past. There are times none of this will make sense. There will be times when I might get lucky and the blog I post will be well constructed and will flow like a mountain stream to an awaiting lake below. Other times it will seem like the ramblings of a madman and you’ll ask yourself, “What the……?”
You should probably get used to the latter.



This blog post has no intention of trying to teach a moral or give you something to think about.
It’s just about something I love and has given me great peace…


Once when I was a kid, my dad and I went to my elementary school so I could play on the playground. Back then, it didn’t have a fence around it like it does now, almost forty years later. It was open to anybody that wanted to swing or slide or climb the jungle gym.
My dad had never done this before…or after. It was a one-time thing. Maybe he needed to get out of the house and thought taking his only boy to a familiar playground was what he needed.

I played and showed him everything I could do, showing off mostly. But I don’t remember much about that. What I do remember is walking with him really slowly and looking down in a big patch of clovers. He told me maybe we could find one with four leaves. I had heard of four-leaf clovers but I had never seen one other than in books or on TV. I honestly thought they didn’t exist.

After a few minutes, my dad stops, drops his hand down into the patch of green clovers like he was trying to catch a nimble fish from a stream and plucked out a clover. He looked at it closely and smile. Then he handed it to me. There, pinched between my thumb and forefinger was a perfect four-leaf clover. At that moment, I believed all magic was real and my dad was some sort of wizard. I stared at the clover and back at my dad. He thought it was funny to see his son looking at him with such a look of amazement and shock.

I held it cupped in my hands as if it was some sort of small exotic butterfly all the way home. When we got there, he got a white notecard, cut it down and wrote on the back when and where it was found and then placed the clover on the blank side. Then he took some industrial clear tape and slowly and carefully placed it over the clover. It was a do-or-die situation. Perfectly done, he taped the other side and trimmed the tape. Then he handed it to me. I had a bit of magic encased forever.

I placed that clover in the crack of the mirror and its frame on my dresser for the longest time. Then I used it as a bookmark. And finally, after moving from place to place over the years, it found it’s way into a box. And there it stayed.

Even though that clover was in an old shoe box with a few other things I forgot about over time, the magic that clover and that day had on me was something I still carried around.

Cut to many years later when my daughter was little and she was over for the weekend with her step-mom and I. It was a Sunday and I knew I would have to take her home in a couple of short hours. I wanted to make the most of it but I had drawn a blank. Then, for some unknown reason, that clover popped into my mind. And there I had my idea for sharing something magical with my daughter (hopefully).

I asked her if she had ever seen a four-leaf clover and she said on TV. With that, I felt an odd presence, the magic of the past turning into the magic of the future. I told her to put on her shoes and follow me. We went out past the little-wooded area and ended up on the other side of the fence that guarded the condo pool. There in the morning sunlight, were huge patches of clover.

We searched for about ten minutes and right when her young patience was about to fray beyond help, I spotted one. I reached out like my dad did so many years before and plucked from the ground.  I handed it to her with reverence and even though she was young, she took it from my palm with the same reverence. At that moment, I saw an old soul inside her. She turned it around and around, studying it like I did so many years ago.

Before we left to come back, we found another one. Two proofs of magic within a few minutes.

Then those two clovers got placed in a piece of wax paper and placed in a book on my shelf so that I could take care of them later. Which…due to life and the obstacles it tends to put up in your way from time to time, I forgot about them.

Forgotten magic. Forgotten in a book, forgotten in a box.

But when you believe in magic, they don’t stay forgotten for long. The thought of those little talismans will pop back into your thoughts at the right times.

Recently, I had been missing some of that magic. And the thought of those clovers popped into my head…again. I had been coming back from checking the mail at our condo and stopped right outside our fence and gate in the back when I looked down and saw vast amounts of patched clover. I forgot what I had been doing and knelt down and took a few minutes to hunt for a four leaf clover. Unfortunately, I didn’t see one but those forgotten clovers that had been plucked had come back to me.
I found THOSE. All over again.

I came inside and searched and found them. The two in the book and the one from my elementary school.

Magic never really leaves if you believe in it. The real magic of those clovers was in the finding… and whom you were with when you found them.


I had an idea. I’m going to buy some dirt and fill up on of my empty planters and one early weekend morning or when the sun is setting and I’m less likely to be seen or disturbed, I’m going to sneak out past the fence in the back and dig up a section of clover and plant it. Someone will come along and see a muddy strip of empty lawn and wonder what the hell happened.

And maybe I can keep the clover alive year round. A planter full of potential clover magic.

(BTW… The Works of Edgar Allen Poe…page 500… you’ll find some luck)

-Loyd Elmore Jr
March 22nd, 2019


I’ve decided to keep a blog about how I’m dealing with depression. I’m going to consider this a form of therapy. It might not help anybody else but it might help me. 


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