Mr. Yesberger's trees

My route to work goes past Brandywine almost every morning.

It's a public golf course on the corner of Truxell

and Akron Peninsula.

The little fellow in the bottom right corner passed his first winter here, alone.

At the very end of winter the coyotes took him. 

The course is covered in stands and stands of trees.

Of course I am fascinated. I've stopped mornings and afternoons to take pictures, 

from across the street.

Making the aperture look through the trees.

Defying the sun and the frost on the ground

Keeping the passing traffic out of my shots.

Wide angle.

You know I really wanted to be on the golf course.

Taking pictures of tree trunks like old elephant's legs.

It came to me. A tee time.

I stopped Friday afternoon and chatted with the woman behind the club room counter.

Old, like me.

She had worked part time at the course all her life.

I explained my fascination with the trees and my desire to photograph them, up close.

"Mr. Yesberger's trees," she said. "He planted them sixty years ago."

She gave me 9 am this morning tee time, golf cart only.

She left a note in the computer for Terri,

who would be on duty this morning.

Emily and I set out in plenty of time.

She was going to learn to drive a golf cart,

carting the photographer.

"We can't have you on the course taking pictures!"

Said Terri, the clerk on duty today.

So, we left.

I think Mr. Yesberger would 

 let met take pictures of his trees.