I could spend all day staring up at clouds. The thought of a hammock, a friend, and a breeze as we find recognizable figures in them is magical.
And then there are days like this. My hammock was replaced by a golf cart, as I was officiating a golf tournament. A friend was replaced by competitors with whom I chatted, and the ground surface breeze was just enough to keep the air fresh. And the clouds? Magical cirrus formations that looked like angel feathers, drifting high in the atmosphere at 15,000 to 30,000 feet. To the left, a cellophane sheet of them cradled the sun.
These competitors were. highly skilled club professionals, playing a magnificently layed out course that had little risk. It's the type that is often found at resorts destinations. A lot of beautified landscape, but little threat to such talent. At their level, the only thing they see is the target and distance. Ground obstacles are cosmetics, not concerns.
The only downside to my day was the drive home in the throws of rush hour traffic. It had taken me fifty-five minutes to drive there in nominal traffic, but the reverse was almost two hours. I had bought into that, knowing I had to be home for a meeting. It's times like this that I play back things I've written to catch flaws, or dictate new blog posts and short stories to organize and complete later, all with memories of angel feahers and a sublime day.
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