On my walks lately, I’ve noticed red clover in bloom beside the path. I can’t help myself. I have to stop and taste the sweet nectar at the bottom of the florets. When I was a child on the farm, my brothers and I whiled away many an hour plucking daisy petals (He loves me . . . He loves me not . . .) and tasting clover nectar, and when I taste it now, it takes me right back to childhood.
I have written before about my Wonder Walks with the Sunday school children. We go to the field beside the church, because wild things grow there, and there’s plenty to wonder at or about. On our most recent walk, I saw the red clover in bloom, and I couldn’t help myself. I had to stop and taste the nectar. Before I did, I looked around at the group of children with me. They didn’t grow up on a farm. They didn’t even know about clover nectar. I felt absurdly pleased to be the one to introduce them to the joy of red clover nectar. I taught them to peel away the tiny florets and suck the sweetness from the bottom.
“A mind, once expanded by a new idea, never returns to its original dimensions” (Oliver Wendell Holmes)
My mother and father taught me how to taste clover nectar, and I never forgot it. Now those children have tasted the sweet nectar, and they’ll never forget it.
Sometimes simple things bring the greatest joy.
To see beautiful photographs of red clover, follow this link: http://www.microscopy-uk.org.uk/mag/indexmag.html?http://www.microscopy-uk.org.uk/mag/artjun06/bj-clover.html