Golf on Grounds?

Besotted with everything Charlottesville, I was highly anticipating my return from the more than two month drought.  The plan was to attend a banquet Thursday evening and spend the rest of the weekend living the dream.  The black tie affair on Thursday set the bar high.  The event proved to be the perfectly anticipated muddling of pomp and circumstance, debauchery, and licentiousness.

The following afternoon, Valerie, Erin and I traveled to Birdwood for a little golf.  I haven't picked up a club in approximately five years, but was excited about the prospects of playing nine holes.  Thankfully, Valerie and Erin persuaded me to stick to the driving range.  The three of us split a bucket of balls and so began the entertainment.

Erin informed me before she took to the tee, that her goal was usually to drive the ball past the first hill.  Befuddled after scanning the horizon and spotting no hills, Erin clarified the definition of "first hill"; more commonly known as the end of the tee box.  As it turned out, this was a realistic goal for her, clearing the tea box more than 50% of the times she made contact with the ball.

I, on the other hand, had a more confident gait.  I forwent the drivers and started with the iron.  I can't be certain where my first shot went.  I can only assume that it followed a similar trajectory as the mound of earth I sent flying into orbit.

Departing comment: While loitering on the Lawn, a couple abandoned their infant sprawled out on all fours.  The infant crawled over to me, and proceeded to eat fistfuls of grass.  Ten minutes later, when the parents returned to their unattended infant, I informed the mother that her child ate a lot of grass (refraining from informing her that I thought she was off to a bad start at motherhood).  Her response; "Maybe she's a vegetarian." Touche.