Write about: the golfer.
With our farm intern and her daughter leaving us tomorrow morning we wanted to treat them to a bit of a special day. So we took them to Rattlesnake Canyon for mini-golf, rides, and ice cream.
I've never been much of a ride person so I just stuck to golfing, which was loads of fun. It's been too long since I've done that.
Tomorrow I'm dragging my ass out of bed early in order to harvest them a surprise produce box to help them fill their fridge in their new place up in Penticton, where Brittany has already found work that will hopefully get them through the winter.
It's going to feel quite different around here starting tomorrow night, that's for sure.
Rain falls as though a faucet in heaven has been left open and unattended, forming monstrous puddles and washing away unsecured equipment. We watch from the safety of the indoors, just as the foxes peer out of their dens and rabbits look out of their holes.
The storm will pass eventually. Some angel is bound to notice the gushing tap at some point, at which point it will be a reasonable option to venture outside.
Of course, not all men are born reasonable.
Like Kevin, for example. No, he's not here for me to point him out to you. He's out there, just like every Saturday for the last five years, warming up for his 10 am tee time.