There’s been a mysterious golfer — maybe more than one — around here for years, driving balls off mesa tops and landing them perilously close to the windows of my faux-adobe hideaway. So far, no harm done. But if he or she ever beans one of Placitas’s free-roaming horses, who also regularly leave things in my front yard, I’m sure a posse will be organized.
P.S. I took a drop for the photo.
dream ranch 