For most of my life I have loved golf. But what I’ve really loved is golf courses.
I became a member of Tarandowah Golfers’ Club in Canada. It was designed by the British architect Martin Hawtree to resemble the seaside links courses in Scotland.
I love Tarandowah … the sweep of the fairways, the deep pot bunkers, the severe slopes beside some of the greens. Take a look:
On a misty morning, alone in the rolling world, I was at peace.
Back in the clubhouse, I waxed poetic about the beauties of the land to my fellow members. I sighed …
And no one cared. No one noticed the love in my eyes. They wanted to talk about scores and the nuances of the golf swing.
I was alone … while surrounded by people.
And now in Ghent, far from the world of golf. Instead I have the Leie River and the seagulls who ply their trade there. How they soar!
Do you see the widespread wings? Do you feel the tilt of feathers as the dive begins? Are you there above it all with your brothers and sisters?
Usually the answer is “No”. Seagulls poop on us and squawk a lot.
My friend Michel is the only one whose eyes widen in contemplation of flight, who marvels at the still wings aloft.
It’s a bittersweet aloneness, yearning for people to join my life, and knowing that most of them never will. And yet closing my eyes on the pillow with scenes of the twelfth green and the Zuivelbrug Bridge inviting me to sleep.
All is well