I had just put my toddler down for her nap of the day and I grabbed The Artist’s Way book, my journal and set up my area on the grass in my backyard ready to dive into Week Two’s tasks. (I’ll talk more about The Artist’s Way in a future blog post.)

During a moment of silence on the grass, I sat observing the wind and the trees, the birds that sang their pretty songs above me, the dragonflies that flew past; I realised there were so many clover patches in my backyard. I was instantly transported back to 6 year old me.
I was an only child for 8 years.
I was a wild child.

Always outside, in the dirt, bare feet everywhere. Making magic potions in the overgrown garden with mud, water, small wild flowers, sticks and twigs. Sharp rocks were no problem for me, I’d run over them with no pain.

We had a trampoline.
A rectangular one with exposed springs that you’d have to jump over not to pinch your skin. The mat was blue and really old. It was faded from the sun exposure and you’d sink deep into the middle the moment you’d roll onto it.

I used to sneak my dog onto it when I knew my parents weren’t watching. She was a red pit-bull and my gentle giant who accompanied me on all of my imaginative adventures.

After bouncing to my heart's content, and I was all tired out with heavy breathing, I laid face down on the trampoline. My button nose squished up against the mat so I could see through it to admire the lush green clover patch growing beneath me.

I would lay still and trace my eyes over every clover I could see until I could spot a four leaf clover. When I would find one, I’d think “Crap. Now I can’t take my eyes off of it, otherwise by the time I jump down to pick it, I’ll lose its spot!”

If I still had my school socks on, or a headband, I’d try and fling it underneath me or as close to the clover as I could so I had some point of reference for when I got down there. I wanted to do as little work as possible to find it again once I was under the trampoline.

I always found them.

I had forgotten this part of me until I was present enough to actually see the clovers in my yard now - 20 years later.

“Where did that little girl go?” I wondered. “Why did I stop searching for clovers?” “When did I stop playing for me?”
So I got up, and started searching.

My childhood dog is no longer with me, but this time I had Ora (our Staffy) beside me on a new adventure. It was like old times with a new dog. I told myself, “I am going to find a four leaf clover and I’m not going to stop until I do!”

Well, little did I know that even though I had much more clover patches to search through now than I did under that trampoline many years ago, the Universe wasn’t going to give it up to me so easily over some nostalgia.

I was going to have to work for it.

My Censor (as Julia Cameron likes to call our inner critic.) was coming for my jugular the moment I decided to play.
“You have better things to be doing!”
“There’s laundry that needs to be done!”
“You haven’t got any sunscreen on!”
“It’s hot!”
“It’s just a clover, this is silly!”
“Just go inside!”

It was Me vs Me.

Each and every time a reason to quit would pop into my mind I had to tell it to shut up. - This was hard for me. But I kept searching.

I spent 2 hours outside, crouching down, then laying down in the clover patches, using my sarong as a shield from the sun at some points, getting my hands in the soil digging for small ones, moving to other patches across the gardens to see if there’s one there, all to no avail.

On my baby monitor I heard my daughter had woken up.
Play time’s over.
But I’ll be back.

Over the next four days, every chance I got while I was outside, I’d look. Whether my daughter was with me, I was on a phone call or I was walking past to check the mail.
I always looked.

On the fourth day of being outside with my mission in mind I walked over to the large patch I first started in.

These clovers were Buffalo Clovers.

Not the typical heart shaped, light green ones you think of - which is the type I had set my desires on from the beginning. I crouched down, and said aloud, “Right. If this is a lesson on patience, you’ve got me. If this is a lesson on not being truly open to receiving what I asked for because I have a specific idea of how it should look or where it should be, I’m ready to accept however it is meant to be. Just show me my clover!”

And within moments, there, I saw it. “Could it possibly be?” I wondered. “No…surely not”, I doubted. Slightly blowing in the wind with the afternoon sun making the leaves shine bright, I reached out and picked up a clover I believed to have four leaves.

That’s when I realised it was a five leaf clover instead. I literally jumped for joy, screaming with excitement. I even had happy tears as I ran inside to show my husband that I had finally found it - one that was even better than I originally wanted. After the initial feeling of accomplishment, I Googled the statistics of finding such a clover. Results came back at one in one million.
I thought “Wow. Right here in my backyard! Me! I found it.”
I felt 6 again.

The very next day, we had someone coming in to spray the weeds around our property. Which meant I had to say goodbye to the clover patches. This was scheduled long before I had my sudden clover search mission pop into my head. I did indeed feel lucky.

But hard work will put you where luck finds you.

I took this experience as a lesson in self determination and that opportunities come as quickly as they can go. If I had dismissed my first playful spark, if I had denied myself the chance to play, to just see “What if?”, the weed exterminators would have come anyway and all of the clovers would have died. I never would have learnt something about myself if I didn’t let myself.

Don’t leave your inner child behind.
Play.
Create.
You might surprise yourself.

So, where’s your clover patch?

All my love,
Chenise Sinclaire.