Lucky Finds

Lucky me! I’ve always enjoyed finding four-leaf clovers. My childhood books were full of pressed dry leaves and later the contents of diaries and sketchbooks continue to remind me of happy hunting times.

Pressed clovers from a sketchbook in Séguret, France 1975

It’s not that I really look for them, I simply seem to spot them when I’m walking along. I’ve also spied them riding my bike, on horseback and even from the car when temporary traffic lights caused me to stop on a country lane.

Me with a handful of 4-leaf clovers in 1985

My most recent find was when I visited my neighbour’s house and excitedly demanded a cutting from a potted plant outside her door. “Ooh a 4-leaf clover plant!” It was a lovely purple variegated variety but she hadn’t noticed the number of leaves, many of them with 4, 5, 6 or 7 leaves as well as the normal 3. In all the years the highest number of leaves I remember finding on a stalk is 13, a long way short of the world record of 56 (although it was grown on purpose by cross-breeding)

My neighbour's Trifolium plant now on my windowsill

A few months ago, we used a trip to the dentist as an excuse for a staycation in Worthing. I was only going along for the ride so missed the painful parts of the trip (mostly the bill)

After the appointment we walked along the seafront and out of the blue I said “It’s ages since I found a 4-leaf clover" and then looked down and spotted a solitary weed by a wall. I was amazed to realise it was a clover plant and I easily picked three 4-leafers, leaving some for Peter to spot but after a moment’s inspection he declared there weren’t any. I quickly squished my pickings safely in my diary and we continued our walk.

We ambled along the prom and walked to the end of the pier, having fun taking photos with the artwork which had been painted to encourage some comic selfies. 

Worthing Pier

 

Peter O'Donnell couldn't resist posing with these, sorry artist unknown

By the end of the afternoon there was a golden light foretelling a lovely sunset and we were back on the prom almost immediately opposite where I had found the clovers.

I looked down and saw something shiny and bent down to pick up what turned out to be a silver chain with two silver disks. One was engraved with “Will you marry me?” and the other “You said yes on the 27/05/21” which was a week after we ourselves had got married. It didn’t look very expensive but felt charged with emotion.

"Will you marry me?"

Worthing evening light

There was no-one in sight so I put the necklace in my bag deciding to post a photo of it on Facebook to see if the owners could be found. Sadly, despite the post being seen and shared by several friends with connections to Worthing, nobody came forward. I began to feel burdened by the responsibility of it and felt I should have left it where it was.

As we had to go to the dentist again a week later, I decided to take the necklace and put it back in a prominent place or leave it with one of the kiosks on the seafront.

Driving home, Peter dropped me off on the main road. I wanted to take a photo of the clover plant and see how many 4-leafers my Facebook friends could spot and maybe get a bit of root to plant at home.

I walked up and down where I thought I’d seen the plant but couldn’t find the place at all. As we only had a short time I decided to go and deal with the necklace instead. Then I couldn’t find that anywhere. I looked in my pockets, the various crannies and compartments in my bag (I’m sure handbags have a mind of their own and hide things until just after you need them, especially keys and coins for parking meters) but the necklace refused to reveal itself. Now I felt doubly guilty, thinking it had been lost a second time and its owners were now bound to contact me.

A couple of weeks later I bought a bag in a charity shop. This is a frequent event as I am always trying to upgrade my handbag to the ultimate carrier of my personal goods. Not too big or heavy, with flaps and zipped pockets for money and phone. I was pleased to get a simple bag with 4 compartments for under a fiver which later turned out to be real leather. I felt very pleased with myself and set about transferring items to their designated areas. About to recycle my old bag, I found the necklace right at the bottom.

I was even more determined to reunite this sentimental item to the newly-weds and searched again on Facebook. This time they had posted that it was lost and I was happy to contact them to return it.

Feeling more positive, I thought I could look on Google maps to see if I could locate the clover plant. After a few attempts at dragging the yellow man (I know now he’s called Pegman) I found the wall and extraordinarily the single clover plant.

The clover plant at the bottom of the pillar

The necklace owners live a few miles from Worthing and offered a reward but I sent them the photo from Google and asked instead if they could possibly take a photo of the plant and maybe get a cutting. I hoped they would also enjoy finding the plant and sharing the luck.

After stalking the postman for days, a mystery parcel arrived by courier which I noticed was a bit wet although it wasn’t raining. Inside a plastic box, with dampened kitchen roll there were several roots of clover with at least four 4-leafers. Very exciting!

Mystery parcel

They are now in water and I’m waiting for the roots to grow so I can plant them. As luck will have it I’m hoping to update this post with photos of a flourishing clover plant…

One of the 4-leaf clovers from Worthing

Who's feeling lucky?

I believe we create our own luck, but sometimes it helps to feel lucky, so I'll take all the help I can get.

Why are four-leaf clovers considered lucky?

The chances of finding one are supposedly between 5-10,000 though if you find one there are usually more on the same plant.

The myth appears to originate in the Bible with Eve apparently taking a 4-leaf clover as a souvenir of Paradise as they were cast out of Eden.

Druids thought clover helped them to see evil spirits before they could attack.  

In Ireland they were carried as charms to offer magical protection and ward off bad luck. St Patrick described the four leaves as representing faith, hope, love, and luck. 

In the Middle Ages children believed a four-leaf clover would enable them to see fairies.

and the first written reference suggesting their good fortune was made in 1620 by Sir John Melton.

The Guinness World Record for the largest collection of four-leaf clovers is held by Edward Martin of Cooper Landing, Alaska, who has picked more than 100,000 of them. 

The most four-leaf clovers collected in one hour by an individual is 451, and was achieved by Gabriella Gerhardt in Wisconsin, USA

Clover lawns are better for the environment as they requires less water, fertilizer, compost, herbicide, and weeding. https://dengarden.com/gardening/Clover-Lawns

Not a bad outcome for a genetic mishap somewhere along the line

Links 

Wikipedia Four-leaf clover

St Patricks day traditions

why are four leaf clovers lucky

Clover lawns RHS advice

Update!

Here’s a photo of the plants grown from the cutting 

5th August 2023 in the rain ☔️

My trip in Marrakech

“Did you enjoy your meal? The food was good?” “Yes, good.” I’m lying. We had just eaten couscous and vegetables for lunch on the top floor of a small café at the edge of Jemaa el-Fnaa, the famous square in Marrakech. The meal had been both dry (the couscous) and wet (the vegetables) and mostly tasteless.

“Can you give a review on Trip Advisor?” the waiter pestered as we continued down the stone steps.

Suddenly I found myself at the bottom, on my bottom, as on the word Trip I had indeed tripped and fallen down the stairs. My left ankle immediately swelled to twice normal size and I felt a bump on my head where I had hit the wall.

Quite a commotion and I was bundled into a taxi with the waiters running after Peter to check we’d paid the bill. The taxi driver asked how I was in French and for some reason I could only reply in Spanish. It was a short ride as we were inevitably dropped at the gates to the Medina as the car could go no further.  I knew I was now hobbling and helpless. Then from nowhere a wooden chair appeared and I was encouraged to sit on it, whilst I contemplated how we could possibly reach our Riad which we had been delivered to the day before by electric golf cart.

No golf carts, donkeys or mopeds were in sight but a wheelchair materialised. The previous occupant had been slung out at the thought of making a buck and presumably would get my chair in exchange until it was returned.

It is day two of a 4-day holiday in Marrakech and we haven’t yet got our bearings. The streets within the Medina are confusing at the best of times and seemed to twist and turn like my ankle which was now throbbing. Avoiding cats and vegetable stalls, the small wheels of the wheelchair kept getting stuck in the metal drain covers so I had to be hoisted aloft like an Arabian princess. Eventually we arrived at the oasis of our luxury Riad and our porters were paid off. I was welcomed inside to sit on a black velvet sofa and brought a shining gold bowl of ice for my foot. The resident masseur took a look at my ankle and got me to flex it in all directions, telling me he had once worked at Stoke Mandeville hospital which was reassuring. A tray appeared with English tea and a box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates to match the brown and gold décor. Other than the excruciating pain this surreal experience felt like a magic carpet ride.

Later I am lying here with the smell of roses, but I am not in a garden. I am confined to a bedroom without flowers just the smell of petals drifting through the hotel. I feel like a vegetable. The blue sky and sun beams tantalise through a fretwork screen and all seems tranquil. I am unable to wear shoes but enjoy shuffling in the monogrammed slippers which were supplied in our room.

Leg raised on cushions in our room

I know outside there is a maze of streets which seem to lead into themselves like the strings of intestines that hang from the butchers’ stalls, next to leather shoes and handbags, spices and metal pots. Stallholders stand and stare, then a seemingly lifeless heap of clothes stirs to reveal the trader taking a nap. On the floor there is a meagre assortment of items probably retrieved from bins, a half empty bottle of shampoo, some prescription drugs and an Agatha Christie novel, barely enough to cover the cost of a bag of couscous.

The riad is on four floors and we chose it for the fabulous roof garden at the top and the enticing swimming pool on the ground floor, both of which are now too painful to visit. Our room is on the first floor and as I’m getting hungry we make our way downstairs to eat in the hotel restaurant for the second night.

We had treated ourselves to the rather posh and costly menu the night before as it was Peter’s birthday. Afterwards we continued to drink in the bar and Peter enjoyed entertaining the other guests on the grand piano and telling his tales.

Peter O'Donnell on the piano 

After this we were meant to be on a tight budget and expected to find cheap places to eat in the Souk. My mobility was so restricted it was all I could do to drag myself from the bed to the bathroom so there was no way that we could go out to eat together. Peter at least managed to visit some street stalls for some stew and flat bread which was tasty.

On the fourth day of our visit, the golf cart duly came to take us out of the city walls to a taxi for the airport. Once there I was given a wheelchair and we were sped through to the gate and levered up to the plane in a special lift. Arriving at Gatwick we were whisked through security and then we were home.

The next day I was still in agony and a trip to the x-ray department proved that I had in fact fractured my leg.

When you mention a trip in Marrakech it conjures up images of a hippy trail and a blur of smoke. You probably won’t find many of them featured on Trip Advisor either.

Goodbye Marrakech, those slippers came in useful