Hey, it's your old pal. I am still alive, still here, and still participating in golf-- at least as much as the fragile, volatile ecosystem of Earth will allow these days. It's been a long time since Ms. L has played any golf, so we fired up the old rental car, threw a dart at a map of the tri-state area, bundled up and headed out about an hour east to a tiny town called Pompton Plains in rural Sussex County.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Roadgolf: Sunset Valley GC, Pompton Plains NJ
Hey, it's your old pal. I am still alive, still here, and still participating in golf-- at least as much as the fragile, volatile ecosystem of Earth will allow these days. It's been a long time since Ms. L has played any golf, so we fired up the old rental car, threw a dart at a map of the tri-state area, bundled up and headed out about an hour east to a tiny town called Pompton Plains in rural Sussex County.
Friday, March 20, 2015
Winter 2015: S.O.S. (same old shit)
After two months encased in ice, the doorway to golf has finally been opened again. Time to get back out there and see what condition the conditions are in--both on the golf course itself, and on the one between the ears as they say.
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
Winter Desperation 2015: The Melt
It is actually happening. It is finally raining. For the first time in months, pure wet rain--not the frozen stuff. Not the freezing rain, not the sleet. Not the goddamned dreaded wintry mix.
On top of that the days are getting longer and the sun's peaking higher in the sky. The more steeply the sun's rays are angled, I have read, the more heat is transferred to the surface of the planet. Come March, those angles get steep enough to result in a daily net heat gain, thus rapidly accelerating the rate of snow melt. I was not aware of that.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Winter Desperation 2015, volume 2
Winter has set in. Deep within, even though it's now March. In my mind's eye I can no longer conjure up visions of golf, as it is played on a golf course. I can't do it. The memory is just too distant. At bedtime, in those fleeting moments between waking and sleeping I might receive a faint glimpse of a golf memory from the past, but it's hazy and short-lived.
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