If you are a member of my family, the first sign of spring is not that early robin chirping outside your window, nor is it the lengthening days or the greening of the grass.
No, in my family, the first sign that spring has truly and irrevocably arrived is the greening of the jackets when The Masters begins, brought into our eager homes via satellite from Georgia's Augusta National Golf Club, which is a lovely place indeed with all those azaleas in bloom. Susie, who lived in the south for many years, tells me that they have to keep the shrubs packed with ice to prevent them from blooming before the tournament opens. Whatever they do, it is well worth the effort. I'm convinced that there is no place other than heaven that is more lush and green and bedecked with gorgeous flora than Augusta, Georgia in April.
So why, at such a beautiful, top drawer place like the ANGC, is the coveted jacket so hideously ugly? No one has ever been able to tell me that, but I suspect it is something akin to the fact that preppies are drawn to Top Siders like steel to magnets, even though they are the yuckiest looking shoes ever cobbled.
Check here at the official Augusta National Golf Club website for the constantly updated leader board.
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