Pocket Clippers

My obsession with clipping flowers to dry in our root cellar has reached a dangerous level. I keep my clippers with me nearly all the time, just in case I happen upon a flower gold mine. Today is a beautiful day, not too hot but sun is shining, so I took the dogs for a stroll while Adam readied himself for church. My dress has pockets (!), so I slipped my clippers in one and set out on the trail in front of the house. The dogs picked up the scent of something, turkeys maybe, and took off. After wrangling them back into the house, we were running late for church and my clippers were forgotten. After the service, groups were gathered and enjoying coffee and donuts in the community room when an elderly lady dropped a pen. I quickly bent to pick it up when my clippers came clambering out of my pocket and made a loud clang on the tile. Everyone was silent and what felt like 100 heads turned to look at me and the source of the racket, my dirty, green-stained clippers. How embarrassing.