A couple days after the wedding, we spent the afternoon and evening with my brother Kurt. His new bride, Jean was feeling under the weather, so it was just the five of us – Larry & I, my sister Louise & her husband Scott, and Kurt. In keeping with local customs, we had to stop for refreshment at several points in the day. The desert air is very dry you know, and one must take care to remain properly hydrated. We were also starving, so he took us to the club where he often goes golfing. We noticed right away that it differed somewhat from the place where we normally go golfing, because there was no giagantic purple elephant out front. There was also a decided lack of half sunken pirate ships, tees made from the rear end of a ’57 Chevy, and no waterfalls to hit the ball through at all.
There also didn’t seem to be anyplace to buy post-golf ice cream cones or hot dogs either, but we soldiered on, making the best of things.
We sat out on a terrace, ovelooking part of the course.
Clearly, it was a place where the beautiful people like to be seen.
It was, of course, gorgeous. I had a glass of Shiraz that I would want for my “last-dinner-on-death-row” meal and the others enjoyed some really nice draft beers.
And nothing is easier to plant than a crocus bulb – poke a big screwdriver down in the dirt about 4 inches, wiggle it around to make a big enough hole, drop in the bulb, and tamp in some soil on top.
Then you have to wait of course. I was thinking I had gotten duds, because all of Larry’s crocus over the septic tank [he is a romatic at heart!] had come and gone before these even began to poke out of the ground.
But, finally they did, and eventually, every single one of them bloomed.
I think it may be the best buck fifty I have ever spent!
