It was a beautiful winter afternoon. Nina stood there holding his arm. His black, crisp hair and wet brow had signs of falling snow. He was looking at her face, her curly hair, which had almost frozen, shining like moonlight. A streak of snow appeared on her lips. We were standing on a hill. A slope on the field beneath our feet reflects the sunlight as if its shadow were falling on a mirror.
Suddenly Nina went back in her thoughts... We were standing on a hill. A slope on the field beneath our feet reflects the sunlight as if its shadow were falling on a mirror.
"Come on, slip once! Only once! Don’t panic. Nothing will happen to us. We will get down there right up to our destination."
But Nina was scared. From here, the path from the edge of the hill to the ground below seems extremely long. She looked down from top to bottom. It was like she was out of breath. She thought, "Why be scared? He was with me on this gracious day."
Image Edited
Nina was in dream...
I had plucked large bunches of different flowers and was on my way home. Then I grew into the ditch and saw a magnificent plant of purple bunion fully blossomed. We call it "clover."
I thought I should pick it up and put it among my bouquet of flowers. I got down in the ditch. A shaggy-satiated bumblebee, was sleeping in a deep sleep in the flowers. First, I shoved him out of there. Then I tried to pluck the flowers. But it was difficult, as it was full of thorns. I had wrapped the handkerchief in my hand, but they pierced the handkerchief.
The stalk was so high that I had to struggle with it for the next few minutes, breaking its petals one by one. When I finally managed to pluck the flower, the stalk had split off. But this flower did not look so fresh and beautiful.
I repented. I had spoiled a flower that was as beautiful as it was blooming in its place. Just then, I heard, "How much energy and vitality?" I saw him standing right there.
The road to my house went up through the dusty black earth, through freshly plowed and fallow fields. The plowed land was a wide piece of land as far as my eyes could see. Only straight groves were made by the plow on both sides and the front, where the change had not yet been visible. The fields were well plowed so that not a single plant or any leaf of grass could be seen growing up.
Then I saw something like a bunch on the right side of the road in front of me. When I got closer, I saw it was a bunch of clovers. This clover had three petals. I saw a branch of a tree full of red flowers. One was lying, broken. The rest of it, like a piece of a severed arm, was stuck to the plant. Each of the remaining two had a flower. Those flowers may have been red, but now they have turned black. One stalk was broken. Its upper half was hanging with a discolored flower at its end. But the other part of it was taut, straight up.
The wheel of the plow should not crush the whole plant, nor should it stand even when a part of its body is destroyed. It had lost one of its petals. The man is so cruel that he never hesitates to destroy the lovely flower petals.
How much energy, I thought, must have been spent on conquering everything, destroying millions of leaves of the grass, yet it stands undefeated. ’ That’s when I remembered an old story that described the celebration of St. Patrick’s Day.
It shows how the Irish loved their siblings, even without knowing them. A three-leafed clover, or shamrock, is a symbol of the church’s Holy Trinity because of its three leaflets bound by a common stalk. But is a shamrock a four-leaf clover?
On this unique and joyous occasion, he presented his exquisite and attractive girlfriend with bright eyes by buying a gift from the same market. It was this gift, Shamrock, that was so beautiful it made me astonished.
On which I could read, "God will protect you." Then he took her river boating, and after that, by lighting a bonfire in the garden on the river's banks, they both enjoyed their meeting while eating and roasting potatoes in it.
It seemed to her like a game, and she was easily taking part in this game with great pleasure. They were together on St. Patrick’s Day. A fair was held in the garden, which continued day and night. Everyone was enjoying the festival and she was enjoying his company. She thought, ‘Why didn't I take such games seriously in those days while walking around in his company before, and he took her from the garden to that snow-covered hill?"
She always knew if a pair of men and women came here, they would become each others' forever. Reaching the hill, he told her that their relationship was not an accidental coincidence, but that he had fallen deeply in love with her and decided to give it a permanent relationship.
Source-Edited in Paint
It never even came to her mind that she would ever own a home to live in. The earth always trembled beneath her feet. She had green clothes, but then they were hung on the wall. She said, "Pinch me because I am Irish and I always hoped the leprechauns would come and fulfill all my wishes."
Story #2 March Stories - St. Patrick’s Day
