Japan. Countryside. May 2009. Shigeo Obara finds the secret. They occur in large clusters,
which is 40.6 degrees from the terminal leaves of any deciduous tree. Scent is somewhere
between onion and spice, dog-breath and brown sugar. I smell it in my clothes after running
my fingers along the ground. Obara holds the world record for most leaflets found on clover:
56, solid double stem. A four-leaf purposely cross-bred with itself for generations. It’s not
about patience or focus. Not luck or practice. He knows the secret. He observed the bloom.
Everything is a matter of consequence. Unlike him, I can find them on a good day. That is,
when I stand outside, eyes closed. Feet tucked in tufts of grass. Face pointed towards sun
long enough to see spots at the edge of my vision—the world becoming blue-gray, wild mutation.
