This weekend we celebrated the 25th annual “Portage Bay Invitational” — our weekend-long solstice celebration/golf party and the best way to lure our friends out here to the hinterlands. People come from far and wide to camp, party, and play in the “goofy golf” tournament held on the Eden of Garden’s home course. Goofy golf is played with whiffle golf balls — there are some over-the-house shots and the roof is usually littered with divots by the end of the weekend.

The tents started going up on Friday evening as guests arrived from downstate. The week leading up to the tourney was a real drencher so our head greens keeper (Rick) wasn’t able to manicure the yard until Friday afternoon. Thanks to his new, high-speed riding mower he was able to tame the greens in time to enjoy Friday evening beverages with friends and relatives and bask in the calm before the chaos.

A big reason for our party is to share a little bit of Eden. Folks stroll the garden, take a swim in Lake Michigan, and enjoy some time off the grid, out of cell phone range. Most adults really enjoy this aspect of Eden. A few downstaters have commented that it is so quiet it takes some time for their ears to stop ringing (one of the dangers of paradise).

Teenagers, especially teenage girls, tend to have a problem with the remote location. I get a kick out of watching the teens wander all over the place, cell phone in hand, looking for a signal. One desperate teenager girl was overjoyed when she discovered I had an Internet connection. “OMG, I need to use your computer. I HAVE to get on Facebook,” she didn’t ask me, she told me. So I told her,” Um, like, NO Way, we are in the middle of a big outdoor party here, lol.”

The kids end up having a great time once they get over their cell phone trauma. It is a tradition for them too. A lot of these kids have been attending the event longer than I have. And we were flattered when some of the kids showed up without their parents, who could not attend. The winners of the golf tournament get their names engraved on a plaque (men’s, women’s and kids’ categories), and I know those boys are motivated by the competition and the need to defend their title.

We had 35 golfers this year (the average is about 45), plus lots more non-golfers who couldn’t be convinced to pick up a club. I’m not a golfer, I suck at golf, but I play because of the spirit of the event. My name has never appeared on the plaque and never will because it takes me 3 hours to play 9 holes and the amount of wine consumed in that time doesn’t exactly help my golf swing. In contrast, the more competitive flights complete the course in about 45 minutes.

The dinner bell rings at 6 pm and food is paraded out for a first-rate potluck — Cheers to all the chefs!

Dinner is followed by sauna and a campfire accompanied by guitars, a wash-tub bass, and a few bottles of tequila. After doing this for 25 years the crowd still knows how to party. I can’t outlast ‘em. I think Rick and Ted came to bed around 4 am. They are always the last men standing, a ritual as traditional as the tequila.

Our samoyed, Luna, partied a little too hard and passed out next to the fire instead of in the cool sand traps like she usually does (yes, we even have sand traps). It took the drunks around the campfire a few minutes to realize the dog was on fire. Luckily Luna is has thick fur and escaped only with singed hair. Another party goer suffered a third-degree marshmallow burn. I no idea s’mores could be so dangerous.

Sunday is a mellow, sit-around-in-the-grass, drink coffee-around-the-smoldering-campfire, swim-in-the-lake kind of day. Friends who camped at the state campground down the road stop by on their way back to civilization to pick up the crap they left behind the night before and stall their return to home and chores and cell phones. The last of the guests, and our most special visitors, left on Monday morning after one last cup of coffee.

Rick and I let out a melancholy sigh as we watched them go. Sweet silence. Then we walked through the garden, which had been neglected for about five days. Oh my, where did all those weeds come from? We have red strawberries! Garlic scapes need to be yanked. Rick started transplanting squash plants. I got busy weeding the onions. And life got back to normal in the Eden of Garden.