Ten-Finger Exercises

Interesting places

Bill played golf in the Bishop's tournament today. I would have played too except I'm babying my back and it's better. I had a funeral to go to this morning anyway, for a patient I had really liked. She was a little older than my mother was, born in 1913 in Italy. Her mother died at age 42, and she had to leave school young and stay home to care for siblings. She always wished she could have gone on to college, but did get a good job with the Corps of Engineers. She was always a working woman. Her husband farmed, and also did the cooking. She said he'd always have a meal on the table when she came home, which sounds grand but it wasn't. She would have liked to relax a little first. He said if it were him coming home, he'd want to eat immediately, and that settled it.

The golf course where the tournament was played is a new one out in the country. A big herd of cattle turn their heads in unison to check out the cars coming up the drive. The course is pretty primitive, no trees yet or sand traps or water features. It's just two years from having been pasture, but interestingly configured pasture at that. The grass in the fairways and greens is in pretty good shape, but there isn't much rough. The out-of-bounds fence runs right along the fairway. I rode around it with Bill after the game, just to check it out. It isn't an easy course. I'm looking forward to trying it soon.

Somebody called it "real pasture golf," to which someone else took issue. They hadn't seen any cow patties or wild turkeys or pheasants on the course, unlike the one in another small town near here, (which has a couple of holes in the center of the town's race track.)

It was a beautiful day, clear air with enough breeze to wipe out the smoke and clouds. People are still burning their fields, so there are isolated fires apparent in the distance.
This is an area which used to have many asparagus fields, but I saw the first big one today on one of those back roads that I've seen this year. They are so pretty: big, gauzy clumps of fern, randomly green or yellow. They will have red berries later.

That trip through the country led me down Frog Hollow Road, past homesites with signs that said "Cow or Two Ranch" and "El Rancho No Gotto." I also passed Chuckhole Road, which I did not turn down. It's a rough ride. I wonder if unfilled chuckholes aren't like inverted speed bumps.

Two towns not far from here have funny names: Boring and Irrigon, Oregon.

What great names are in your neighborhood?