In honor of the green, here are the shamrocks by the kitchen door. We had some in salad tonight -- our minor observance of the day. This is actually just some wild oxalis, sour grass, that opportunistically took over this pot and the little plot it sits in. Actually, no-one really knows what the true shamrock might be, according to an article I read in a doctor's waiting room, in an glossy Irish horticultural magazine. Too bad I had to leave it behind before finishing the article.
But here's the gist of it: researchers sent out requests all over Ireland for people to mail in samples of the real and true shamrock. They got a variety of different plants, all having the tri-partite leaves that St. Patrick legendarily used to explain the Trinty. Many of the plants were in the oxalis family, so I rest my case. The true shamrock is the one growing right outside your door.
Another green tribute -- the velveteen hills of Sonoma County, dotted with live oaks. This vista is in walking distance of our house. The new grass has that dizzying green-gold light of early spring.
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