A cool August morning in Spirit Lake Iowa this summer with Jerry, my friend.
Every fall golf courses in the desert sow winter rye seeds into freshly scalped fairways and pray for sub 60 degree nights and lots of water cover to germinate a beautiful yet fragile green for all the snow bird golfers who will visit. The other kind of birds love it as a feast is laid out for the doves and ducks.
The fairways were nice and lush, now we get the privilege of playing after two weeks of growth of parking and walking to hit our shot and walking back to go to where the ball landed. This requires often choosing several clubs to carry with you and judge the one you need, or in my case hit the ball with the wrong club, swing to hard and mess up the hole.
If you play behind beginners this type of golf makes for four and one half to five hour rounds, no longer a fun walk ruined, but a grueling endurance test of waiting and wacking as you tire yourself out.
The reseeded greens putt like obstacle courses of partially filled in grass, ruffles and ridges so you just end up no longer trying to make the three footers and give them to yourself and your partners.
I still love golf, but I love it a little less passionately during overseeding time, I should just get a small carry bag and march right down the middle with seven clubs instead of fourteen.
By the way, all the other parts are functioning well, the sun, the cool air, the smells, and the camaraderie between friends.