The red bud, dogwoods, and some flowering trees are already in bloom. So, I went looking for them in park lands and golf courses. One of the best places for that in Dallas is The W.W. Samuell Park and it's adjacent 2-18-hole courses, the lower course and the favorite of many, The Highlands.There are wild fields of daffodils, red buds, flowering trees and before the rose blight wiped out the rose garden in the park, that was also an early spring visiting place..Now, for a good public rose garden, I have to make it out to Farmer's Branch.
But the golf course was full and the driving range was full so parking was less than perfect for the will dafs that I could see from the road. The walk would have been more than I was prepared to do today. It's a rolling hillside, to boot. That meant I had a good shot at the Gates. They are an outstanding architectural achievement. It's to bad that more people don't know about them. But, they are on the back side of the park albeit the gates are the formal entry with winding uphill driveway to the trail head of both golf courses. The putting green was loaded and people were parking in the main lot and walking across the drive to the putting green with irons and putters in hand. They didn't even bother dragging out the bags from the ones that I saw. I've been there. I know the drill. And I would have--I have--done the same thing. I played one season on a Federal Golf League. I still think about my old partner, Bernie. The guy had the patience of a Saint.I can still hear his voice in my head saying, "take your time, now". Trying to remember what branch Bernie was in. My thinking after all those years seems to me that he was IRS,U.S.Customs or Postal Inspector. Frankly, my memory card on that just didn't bring up many details of Bernie's job function. Frankly, remembering Bernie and those soft spoken words far outweighed his job function many, many times more. I liked that guy as a partner.
It's Practice Time Again. Just a little Putting and Chipping Practice. |
From the last flood, this log washing up into an alcove with a fishing lure bobber entangled. |