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Going on a Golf Ball Hunt
Our front yard is a lavender field/ driving range. These days my daughter is able to hit balls on her breaks between zoom calls. There won’t be any golf team this year, though.
Do I feel like a crazy dog lady pushing our dog, Hazel, in a stroller up to the street in the morning? Why, yes I do, but first let me explain why we have one. I bought the stroller back when Hazel and I made therapy dog visits to the cardiomyopathy unit at Tufts Medical Center. If you have ever been there you know it is a maze of connecting buildings, bridges and elevators including The Floating Children’s Hospital. I use to carry her, but she got heavy after an hour or so and some little kids in the elevator were a little afraid to be riding with a dog. She is mini, so being on the ground wasn’t an option, as it would be too easy for someone to step on her or trip.
I decided to stop in Petco to look for a solution and emerged with their Promenade Pet model. My family shook their heads. As a Bonus it has a basket on the bottom for the coloring books and stuffed animals I use to distribute to patients. Anyway, the next time we rode the elevator I zipped her inside the mesh cover and the little kids were mesmerized by her, like she was an animal in a zoo exhibit. Some of the braver ones even asked to pet her. Big success.
But I digress- now I use the stroller to discourage her favorite past time – rolling in things that stink in the meadow – and to collect golf balls. If I am honest, I will also admit that it is easier for me to hold on to something when I walk on uneven ground since my stroke and I think a hawk is less likely to scoop her up if she is contained. As we cut across the field – it’s like an Easter egg hunt, but with golf balls. This photo shows our most recent haul of 30 balls. All different colors and brands. As an aside- As a child I hunted for golf balls on my grandparents property in Plymouth, Ma, after a golf course was developed across the street.
Back to our field- I use to love filling the field with eggs for Easter morning. One year we had a duck hunt with rubber duckies, another a treasure hunt with a pot of gold plastic coins. Sometimes we still see remnants of those hunts, especially the plastic despite repeated mowings. No one wants to play those games anymore, but Hazel is a trooper and she lets me fill her basket up with all these wayward balls. I know it’s silly, but to me, it’s fun.
Thank you, Hazel, for humoring me.
The driving range/lavender field
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