I stepped outside of my small, one-story house and the strong winds immediately hit me. The irish air around me was humid, and constantly in motion. I could feel the gusts of air run all throughout my long, ginger hair. My freckled cheeks and nose became pink with the cold. It wasn't the nicest weather, but I still wanted to go outside. My family was part of the third of Irish people that believed in leprechauns. When I was a kid, we would all go outside and look for leprechauns on St. Patrick's day. It seems like a silly tradition to me now, since I'm 23 years old, but to a little girl and her younger brother, it was fun traditions like those that brought us joy. 

I pulled my black jacket tight around me as I set out on my stroll around my big, open farmyard. I loved it here. The area was so large, with so much potential. I didn't have any farm animals yet, as I had only just bought the place, but I did have a dog named Clover. He was a brown Irish setter. He patrolled the area in front of me, making sure it was safe. Clover tends to get bored, so before long, he was off doing as he pleased, leaving me all alone, standing at the edge of my property, in front of a large mass of trees. I stopped to look up at the tall trees in my path. They stood in front of me, as if they were blocking me on purpose. I wondered if there could be a leprechaun hiding somewhere in there. Just then, I heard a voice that came from beside me. 

"What are you looking at?" the voice inquired. I looked down and saw it. It was a small man with a long brown beard. He had green eyes that didn't look menacing, but didn't exactly look kind and compassionate either. His outfit was mainly composed of shamrock green and chestnut brown. He had a green suit with a white undershirt and a brown tie. His jet black shoes were polished to perfection, even though he was standing in mud. There was no doubt in my mind that this man was a leprechaun.