Always on the ball.
Driving range her chosen home.
Some know when to duck.
Every year in February, we celebrate surviving the month of January.
So after work this morning, I thought I better hurry and take a swing at the winter festivities before sunset.
I drove into town to join the others assembled down at the lake. I found just to the right of our budding community of ice fishermen, the rest of the citizenry was already focused intensely on their slippery golf games.
We roll a little different up here in the plains.
The busiest hole I saw was number 19, the location of the tent where they showed the Disney flick “Frozen” last night.
I heard it was chilly.
But today we were thawing some in 30 above zero temps.
“It’s almost as balmy as Iowa!” one of the locals declared.
The growing crowds remained orderly waiting for their respective tees, with the longest lines actually found over by the satellites.
It seems more than a few town folk ‘accidentally’ added something other than cream to their coffee. But they were reported to be much happier as a result.
After the tournament, I skated on over to watch a hockey game and catch the dog sled races.
That is until I remembered I needed to race home to feed my own canine pack.
After dinner, we all hiked in the snow gazing up at the town’s blue, green, and gold fireworks sparkling bright under the star lit sky.
I couldn’t help but wonder if the display might be hinting of a colorful spring to come.
“I believe we’ve scored a hole in one,” I told the dogs as we tossed a ball, and then climbed up the hill back towards home.