Hilarity on the Sixth Hole

I've never played golf, never watched golf on TV, never thought about living near a golf course. By chance the retirement community we bought into has beautiful grounds, swimming pools, the opportunity to participate in the community garden, and is built around a golf course. 

Since we've moved to a condo overlooking the golf course, I've decided it's an asset.

The wide expanse allows sunshine to reach my windows and glimpses of the moon.  The breezes blow unimpeded across the lawn and through my windows. 

We're happy to see wildlife. The hawk's scream lures us to the window and we watch as it circles repeatedly, hoping it'll snatch up a pesky squirrel. A coyote lopes across the course headed for better cover nearby. 

Even when it was bitterly cold, we could be naturalists in comfort. The whoosh of goose wings when landing or taking off, and their magnificent choruses brought nature close. I looked forward to it every morning.

However the grounds keepers view geese as a nuisance.  A golf cart chases them away if they linger once the snow melts. This spring one of the groundsmen drove a remote control motor boat on one of the ponds to scare them away. I laughed out loud. 

We forsook our hobby visiting lovely wineries when we moved to the city.  Instead we're amateur golf commentators. (It doesn't compare, but it's handy and amusing.) We watch and critique drives, putts and chips as if we were experts. Excessive mulligans do not escape our attention.  When reading outside we hold our breath when some not-so-controlled golfer brings the game a little too close for comfort, balls bouncing onto the garage roof, or smacking into the building. No broken windows or bruises so far. 

During good weather I watch for my friend Kristin on Wednesday mornings' league play. I cheer silently. She waves. It's like a hug. 

We're also seeing our teen-aged grandson more since he's taking golf lessons with the competent and friendly golf pro.

Recent hilarity at hole number 6 piqued our curiosity. Our senior golfers tend to be more serious, and practically mute.

             

All morning we heard high-pealed giggles, and the sing-song cadence of teasing. One young, exuberant, female foursome after another played through the hole outside our lanai. I wandered out to watch. 

They squealed like kids on a roller coaster when they drove their carts to the tee. They clapped and jumped in glee when the shot was good, and groaned collectively when it wasn't. They were a serial party, moving from hole to hole. Their playfulness put smiles on our faces and made us chuckle. 

I had to know more. Were they in a tournament? I inquired. It was a reunion of twenty friends who met in an Iowa high school. The organizer said she's looking forward to moving to our community (in thirty years when she's age eligible.)

Yay, golf course.