Golf, corn, golf, corn...trees!

I love golf. I used to play golf until about 6 years ago when my back went out. My husband is a golfer, my dad taught golf lessons, and my brothers both play golf. Our good friend, Olin Browne, is a PGA tour player (we went to our very first Masters tournament in 1998 to watch him play). So, when the Memorial Tournament comes to town, you'd think I'd be the first fan to walk through the gates to grab a beer and follow my favorite player around the most beautiful golf course in the world (well, besides Augusta and Pebble Beach). Not anymore. I mean, I still love golf, but when Olin isn't playing I could care less about the other golfers teeing it up. I would rather catch a few hours of the leaders on TV and spend the rest of my beautiful spring day with my beloved Canon. This year, I ended up at the "corn field" off Frantz Road in Dublin. And, yes, all those corn statues standing straight up on their cobs are a little weird but I'm an artist (of sorts) so I kind of get it.

As I was busy shooting cobs, I couldn't help but notice a stand of tall trees with little plaques in the ground in front of them. It seems these graceful giants have been around since the 1880's and served as boundaries between farm properties. Who knew? As usual, my right brain ventured closer to the trees and the bark just seemed to speak to me. I left there thinking, this was way more fun than spending five hours watching someone else hit a little white ball into a really small hole.