Sorry I had to draw something about Haida and Retsuko for the holidays because they make me feel warm and cozy, they are too cute! (They are my new otp) Happy holidays my dudes ! Hope its a soft and cuddly holiday!
Olympia knew mid-August in Iroquois Falls was one of the loveliest times of the year—and that was no inexperienced opinion. In the Bird heiress’ well-traveled experience, summer was best spent sipping sweating beverages while the grass swayed and the sun warmed but did not blister her skin. She’d been to the Caribbean in the summertime; what a mistake. She’d spent half the trip fanning herself and mourning a terrible sunburn, not to mention the persistent heatstroke. Alaska was better but more bizarre; the sun never set until just before midnight and rose before five every morning. The whole summer, the evening was hardly an experiential time of day. France was beautiful in scenery and comfortable in climate; it was a close second in Olympia’s ranking preferences. Nevertheless, home always took the cake.
Armed with wide-brimmed sunhats, picnic baskets, and unwieldy tour bags, clubs swinging back and forth with every stride, Olympia, Rose, David, and Antwon marched into the country and yacht club for an afternoon of golf. Rose was still a little sunburned on the arms from their trip to Lake Huron four days ago, and Olympia did not go without a pink shade to her cheeks, but David and Antwon had tanned some and were unafraid of the sun wrapped in thin, hazy clouds. The humidity would have made the air heavy were it not for a friendly, persistent breeze sweeping across the green. Olympia found it ever-so-faintly funny how the grass hardly moved, the breeze betraying just how artificial it truly was. As Antwon set up the tee at the first hole and David decided on a club, Olympia and Rose commandeered a table on the raised patio. They were able to spectate the entire green as they unpacked their lunches and soon traded their sunhats for a standing umbrella; the breeze, though relieving to the powdered sweat inching down the backs of their necks and collarbones, was not quite so patient with their floppily-fashioned hats.
“It’s a lovely day for golf,” Olympia remarked as she nibbled on a delectable finger sandwich prepared by Mrs. Withers that morning. “I hope the boys have fun.”
Fifty yards out on the green, David stood and frowned at the little white ball sitting on its presumptuous and even littler perch.
