|More tobacco headed to the barn|
It’s not the fanciest course around; some of the fairways give me a feeling of what it must have been like chasing a little white ball around the rough terrain of Scotland.
We had a special surprise today. They were aerating the course – right in the middle of the day. This meant the first fairway looked like this from a distance, for all the world like they were about to plant corn.
Closer up, it looked like a horde of diarrhetic geese had just been there.
For once I didn’t lose my ball in the hungry brook that snakes through the whole area, sucking up anything that lands in it, either lost in the mud or never to be found in the tangle of weeds on its banks.
Still, at the last hole there was a challenge I wasn’t aware of until it was almost too late. A sign in plastic had been staked to the ground. Not seeing any writing on one side, I walked to the other and still found nothing. I walked back to the front, leaned waaay in and saw in sun-faded letters - “Hornets Nest.”