As I click open my blog site on this Summer Solstice, Tracy Chapman's "Spring" starts up and the lyrics of hope greet me, "Like the first of spring . . ." Interesting that my 10-year-old son, Hunter, shared teary-eyed with me two days ago (Saturday) as we walked through Wal-mart that he misses Beatha and Jameson, "I miss them, like I know I haven't met them, but I want them here. I could just see them at the parade today picking up candy with me, you know. It's good we're at the store, otherwise I'd be crying right now." He's my softy -- funny with friends and tough with persuasion, but tender toward everyone, particularly animals, babies, and people he believes deserve better than what they've got. The very next day (Sunday, Fathers' Day) he was on the golf course with his Dad, Uncle Rennie, Pap Cluver, and 7-year-old sister, Baylor. In tropical heat upon the Central Illinois links, his ever observant eyes spotted a four-leaf clover . . . his report to me later that day was "Mom, you know you always think you see one, but then it's just another leaf from a clover behind it; there's always just three leaves. I can't believe it!" 
(Yep, that's a photograph of the real deal. We are currently pressing/drying it to frame for Hunter.)
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