Autumn laid it's blanket of fallen leaves early this year. The ground now a canvas in bright, patterned hues, the broadleaf's looked a-fright with nary a thing to wear. In chorus, ranks of unpredictable winds shook the landscape for it's waning foliage without remorse. "Ah... perfect golfing weather," I thought. I rang up the course and sure enough all the geezers were at home with mittens and tea, not a geriatric foursom...