I spent dawn yesterday day at a golf course. Before work, before the golfers arrived, it was me, the grounds crew, and Molly, the dog hanging out waiting for the sun to rise. Got some photos, enjoyed the quiet, and watched planes approach real low—a beautiful private nine-hole course in Canton. One of the oldest in the country, dating back to 1891, not that I have ever played nor know anything about the sport. I liked my quiet time there without the nuisance of chasing a ball. There are worse ways to start a day.

tr/trp