Golf and Irrigation

The last of the winter storms seems to have swept through and now all we are getting is cool nights and dew on the field of weeds. With the sun out and warmth everywhere we made plans for a golf get-together together with my wife’s BFF in the neighboring County. In rural Loomis there’s a little “par-3 course” with the occasional par-4 and just nine holes. I remembered how to hit with the sticks – except for the complete misses. Only lost two in the water. It was a nice walk in the country but I forgot to bring my Nikon rangefinder. Every bit of information helps, and I’m not a good judge of how far my ball travels, since I am so inconsistent. As a golf-marksman I would hardly rate even “Sharpshooter,” but it was a fine day and I think I got a couple good drives off the tee, including a very sharp hit to an abstruse Canadian goose.
With that done we ventured to Lunch. On a Friday. And we had to use the freeway. Highway (Interstate) 80. Oh My God. The masses of traffic hurtling at breakneck speeds tailgating each other – it reminded us well of why we don’t bother with the Highway-80 Corridor or travel on weekends if we can help it. Eight lanes of mayhem on rubber, flowing over the Sierras with Amazon boxes and goods, all to service the BayAryans. By comparison Highway-50 that really goes nowhere is mild and relaxed, even when it’s congested with vacationers – which is why we know all the back-roads and avoid it as much as possible too. I had planned to visit a gun-emporium and take a look at a Winchester Model 1973 rifle, but the seething horde of Humanity driving willy-nilly in a thrall with unwarranted urgency made me change my mind.
Saturday is one of my twice-weekly irrigation days (I think?) but the valves were shut off back in November, and opened to purge water and relieve pressure from the cold and ice, to avoid breaking. So today is a fine day to open the water-tap to the valves, tighten down the valves down so they function properly, re-set the timer, and test the circuits. At least I think in that order… We want to start planting and get tomatoes and peppers in the ground. Also during the spring when I was messing-about on The Embankment, I came across a couple of drip-lines with emitters that were cut, so I know I will have leaks and need to find them. Hell, you always have at least one leak or two at a minimum, if you are lucky to only have that few, and I expect to find a geyser here and there.
Meanwhile in the refrigerator, a sack of chicken drumsticks is in a Mojito-Lime marinade, and another bag has pork-chops in a Brazilian Steak-house flavor, all getting ready for Sunday Bar-B-Que – temps expected in the low 80’s.
Also down and far away in the Hippie Mountains, Big Sister is about to be a Grandma again…

About NotClauswitz

The semi-sprawling adventures of a culturally hegemonic former flat-lander and anti-idiotarian individualist, fleeing the toxic cultural smug emitted by self-satisfied lotus-eating low-land Tesla-driving floppy-hat wearing lizadroid-Leftbat Califorganic eco-tofuistas ~

12 thoughts on “Golf and Irrigation

  1. Ah, yes. Flog. The waste of a perfectly good rifle range.

    I remember how the Loomis area used to look. I attended Sierra College in the early ’70’s and lived in the dorm. I pastured my horse across the road, literally at the SW corner of Sierra College Blvd and Rocklin Road. I traded pasturage for helping a local rancher round up his livestock. Kept my saddle and tack in the trunk of my ’64 Comet. I could ride the open country all the way to Douglas Blvd. We used to frequent the White Spot Café in Rocklin. I think it was Wednesdays they served all-you-can-eat beef stew and homemade bread for cheap. Good times!

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    • Something I forgot to mention—I was asleep in the dorm when a freight train arrived in the yard at Roseville with a hot box under one of the cars after coming over the Sierras. That car was carrying 500 lb. bombs headed for Vietnam. The bombs exploding were bad enough, but there was also a train on the neighboring track, and it had propane tank cars. We felt the concussion in the dorm when those went off. The tiny berg of Antelope was completely leveled. Some of us drove south on Sierra College Blvd to the top of the ridge to watch through binoculars. We could see the explosions. It was eerie because the blast would be picked up by the microphone in a nearby radio station, and we would hear it first on the car radio before the actual sound reached us.

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    • One more trip down (or up) memory lane. The film in this video was shot in 1957. For me, it brings back many memories of the foothill county side when I was a young lad in the early ’60’s.

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    • Oh for the days of the Starlight Express and the dome cars over the Sierras! Instead we get a billion dollar urban-to-urban high-speed BART full of urban thugs to nowhere.


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