As my eyes scanned the neighborhood street, I observed the irony. The yards that some people fastidiously poured time, money, and chemicals into were barren. These lawns looked dead, lifeless, and empty. However, the other yards—those lawns belonging to people who didn’t pour time, money, and chemicals into them—looked very different. Overgrown with flower-touched weeds and bursts of clover, these yards were full of life. Bees hummed as they hovered above the white clover puffs and butterflies flitted back and forth.
In some yards, there was vibrant life—and in others, desolation and death. Perhaps this is too dramatic (a yard is just a yard, isn’t it?); yet, I wonder if we can learn something from a clover-filled yard.
I look into my own backyard as I sit her in the dining room, and I see an ocean of clover. Each year, the clover has been spreading more and more across that space. This abundance of clover has brought an incredible amount of joy to our family. Over the past several days, my children have spent hours upon hours playing and rolling in the clover. The clover is deep and thick, in some areas rising well above my ankles. It is soft and silky and delightful. Joyous smiles light up the faces of my children as they play, and I join them in sharing this bliss. The clover in a yard is a gift to us--and it also is a gift to others.
Life pours into our backyard, seeking out this clover.