Say you are on your way from Pawlet (or Danby) to Middletown Springs on highway 133. You’re making the drive to pick up some cheddar cheese straws from Sissy’s Kitchen, and to talk to Sissy, herself, about catering your next party… but I digress.
As you get close to town, keep a lookout to the west (that would be to your left) and you will notice what looks like … a golf course. Out here in the middle of nowhere. There are none of the customary signs announcing that you are approaching Burning Bush Country Club or Black Bear Public Links or any such thing. Nothing about where to turn to reach the clubhouse and find the bag drop. Nothing to satisfy your curiosity about that golf course out there in the valley. Tempting, if you play. A mystery, even if you don’t.
So you think, Whatta suppose the story is on that? And drive on to Sissy’s where, you’ve decided, you’ll need to pick up some of her roasted tomato salad dressing as well.
I’ve made that drive several times and wondered about the story behind that golf course. It makes for some diverting speculations. In one of my scenarios, some aging professional who’d had a couple of good years before he lost his game, and then his card, had retreated to Vermont and used the last of his winnings to build a course out in the back forty of the old farmhouse he bought. Every day, weather permitting, he would trudge out to his own private layout and try to find the music again.
Maybe he could get back on the Champions Tour, he’d be thinking as he teed it up.