So I said he keeps smiling. Well, ideally we’d want a clear view from the tea box down the fairway. It’s part of the design. Improves play aesthetics. You know how it is. I didn’t actually, but I did know one thing. Those trees are on my property. I told him flat and simple. He nods immediately like he expected that answer.
Totally understand. He says we respect property boundaries and that was it. Or at least that’s what I thought because 2 weeks later I left town for a long weekend. Just a short trip. Went to visit my sister over in Tennessee. Nothing fancy. Left Friday morning, came back late Sunday afternoon. And the moment I pulled into my driveway, something felt off.
I couldn’t put my finger on it at first. The house looked the same. The porch, the gravel drive, the mailbox leaning a little more than it should. All of that was normal. But the light was wrong. Too bright, too open. I walked around the side of the house. And that’s when it hit me. The shade was gone. That cool, dappled light I’d gotten used to, it just wasn’t there anymore.
And then I saw the stumps, four of them, clean cuts, low to the ground, still pale and fresh like exposed bone. I just stood there for a while. Didn’t yell, didn’t call anyone. I just stood there trying to process how something that big could disappear in a single weekend without anyone saying a word to me.
Through the gap where the trees used to be, I could see straight onto the golf course. Clear as day. And right there, maybe 40 yards out, was a brand new tea box, raised, leveled, perfectly positioned with a direct line of sight into my backyard. I remember laughing, not because it was funny, but because it was so blatant it almost felt like a joke.
