Love coming to Florida. There are manatees, alligators, rodents the size of pigs, and these lovely bird, sandhill cranes that like to peck at the tree frogs and lizards on our windows. If we ever get dinosaurs back (probably by reverse engineering birds) they will be like these guys.
The hole is 178 yards long from the blues, slightly downhill and depending on the prevailing winds needs anything from a 7 iron to 3 hybrid. It’s an easy 3 if you just let the clubs do their work, but try to muscle this hole, a 5 or worse awaits.
The grass is amazingly perfect. I want to walk barefoot.
Hitting without strength, moving without forcing.
The long shadows with shorter days remind me of the temporary hold we have on the moment.
253 yards and I don’t have my three wood. Bombed the drive. Feel 10 years younger.
My sore aching heart gets a reprieve. Golf heals.
I get in the mood to perform rites and the closest thing I have to a temple is this golf course.
It’s a blessed day when your wife says “go play golf.” You shouldn’t hesitate, dither, or prevaricate but high to the course. I’m using a used set given to me by my dad, a set of forged Japanese irons by Maruman which are featherlight but remarkably accurate. I call this set, Yellow Peril.
Coined by Jen, the skies here in the midwest take amazing hues and colors that are different from the coasts. The fluffy while clouds on the azure background reminds Jen of a Magritte painting.
Golfism -life is a metaphor for golf 