A stretch of greensward fringed with the morning shadows of oaks and
maples; a reach of swampland gay with the colors of October; a flash of
tardy songbirds drifting south, reluctant still to go; a small lagoon
glittering like steel in the sunlight; a slender shaft rising and falling
rhythmically; a click, followed by the graceful flight of a small white
sphere that falls obediently upon a square of velvet green—
Oh, shucks! Don’t forget to register.