Last Day/Mind on Clover

This is my last day at the firm, and it might seem odd to be blogging about clover on such a day, not to mention doing so in the depths of a cold northern winter, but I have been thinking about clover, and believe it or not, I have actually encountered a few specimens of clover in the last week or two.

Clover is colorful, resilient, forgiving and very useful "stuff". In summer, my hill in the Lanark Highlands is covered with fragrant clover of all kinds, white clover, tall yellow or bush clover, red clover, pink clover, purple clover, clover of every stature and colour. With every footstep, the fragrance of that wonderful clover is released, and in summer one moves about in a cloud of subtle sweetness. Butterflies and wild bees adore clover, and the hill is filled with the sound of their happy buzzing all season long.

Although summer's clover is (by and large) buried under deep snow, a withered and freeze dried sprig is still visible here and there, and whenever I encounter one in my pottering, I remember summer and that ambrosial sweetness.

Vivid memories are a good and comforting thing on such a sad day as this. To those of you with whom I worked, a deep and heartfelt thank you for the happy (and occasionally very stressed) hours we spent together; thank you for your jokes and anecdotes; thank you for your assistance with projects, taskings and computer hiccups; thank you for your remarkable patience with this grumpy old hen. Thank you most of all for your friendship and your own precious selves. You are more wonderful than you know, and rather like Hotei and his fabled bag of riches, I am tucking you all into my big old tote bag and taking you with me. Journey well, my friends. . . .

Cate