Clover (2005-2014) was a grey cat. Simple. Yet, a few moments with her quickly revealed an independent, playful, occasionally subdued and reflective personality, one that held sway where she might roam. Clover was our compatriot, our guardian of grain, our huntress and our muse. We did not own Clover; she graced our presence. In her honor, we mindfully blended barrels of Ann, Art, and Flora that had been aged for 12 to 22 months—guided by her lingering spirit towards a beer of elegance, grace and patience. As often our Clover would, this beer took its own path and its own time to become what it is now; an effervescent, refined reflection of both our melancholy for her departure, but most importantly, our joy in traveling with her for a while.