Dateline July 14, 2019, Cape Cod

Pinehills, on the way. We made for the Cape Cod area, and our first stop was the Pinehills Golf Club in Plymouth, Massachusetts, a Rees Jones course we had arranged to play and write about. We rolled in around noon, the pro staff set us right up, and after a few balls on the range we headed out.

It is a fine Rees Jones layout, true to his way of working with the lay of the land and moving as little earth as he can.

After about six holes we caught the group ahead of us and joined a twosome, Bill and Rob, who lived in the development just across from the course, and the four of us had a fine time the rest of the way around. We snapped a picture of our partners, but it came out blurry, a little voodoo, perhaps.

We came away with a real appreciation for the way Jones builds a course, then jumped on Route 3 and ran out to Harwich on the Cape.

Uncle Bill and Aunt Margaret. This was our yearly visit to Janice's Uncle Bill and Aunt Margaret out at Harwich, and we arrived just in time for a glass of wine and a lovely dinner.

We sat a good while talking over the family, past and present, and remembered a grand reunion from years back and how lucky we all were to be together for it. Bill and Margaret are new great-grandparents; their son Bob's boy has just had a baby.

Margaret told us there are too many sharks at the Cape these days, and too many seals to go with them, the one drawing the other in for an easy meal. Protect the seals, she said, and you tip the balance, and you cannot go messing with mother nature.

Cranberry Valley. The next morning Bill had set us a half-past-eight tee time at the Cranberry Valley Golf Club.

The talk the night before had been that Bill, who had shot a ninety-two and a ninety-three that very week, was hoping to shoot his age. Uncle Bill is ninety-one years old, and you would never know it.

We rode in a cart, of course, while Bill walked and pushed his own on a good and hilly course. We had a wonderful day of it. He missed his age this time, though we have no doubt he will catch it before the summer is out. Somewhere along the way Janice asked whether he still went snow skiing in the winter, and he told her no, he did not, because if he broke a leg there might not be time enough left for it to heal. That is Bill.

We went out that night to a place called The Pheasant, in Dennis, where the food and the company were both first rate. When we left Harwich it was not goodbye but see you next summer, and we turned the rig north toward New Hampshire and Janice's sister.