I went looking for my golf ball in the middle of the fairway, but couldn’t find it.
The grass is still green, but the leaves on the ground – in an ever growing abundance of colour and number – frustrate a golfer, causing the same anxiety as a fading slice into the forest.
It’s Fall on the prairies.
Overhead, the familiar V shape of the honking Canada Goose in large numbers – and the direction they are heading – become a natural compass pointing south, en route to the same destination many of us plan winter getaways to.
They fly the friendly sky earlier, and for free.