I took Wednesday off to play golf with my son-in-law Alan. He also had the day off and the weather was turning to the better from being forecast as the worst so we figured it would be a good way to hang out together and have some fun. While I used to be an avid golfer in my youth, familial responsibilities as well as a new found love for gardening transferred my spare time over the years from putting on the greens to growing the greens.
Though November in New England can be raw, it was a splendid day with temperatures in the mid 50s, little wind and partly sunny skies. There were few people on the course so we could take our time without the pressure of others. And given my “military-like” golf game of left-right-left-right across the fairways, around the woods, in the sand, etc., I got to see much of the course. And what I saw was disquieting.
My recollections of golfing were of outings that provided a good amount of exercise while surrounded by nature. The exercise part was still the case (perhaps even more so) as I huffed and puffed my way up and down hills, bag on shoulder. The nature part was different as my memories of golf courses were of landscapes of green and full of life. And while that recollection is true, its context is vastly different to me today.
Instead of a beautiful varied environment, I saw a dull monoculture. The woods from which the course is carved out has many different trees, but they provide a simple and boring backdrop to a consistent green carpet. In the spring there would be few flowers to view as the dominant trees (oaks, maples, ashes, hickory, tulip and black birch) give wonderful displays of color in the fall but little the rest of the year. And now there is little undergrowth as fall dormancy combined with an active deer population keep the forest floor bare.
So as I looked for my balls in the woods and nearly every place on the course except the fairway, I also searched for interesting signs of life: I didn’t find much. On one hole there was a small clump of white birch, which stood out from everything else. On another there was a wild cherry that I spotted that I’m sure is spectacular in the spring. And perhaps there will be skunk cabbage, arrowroot, and lilies in the swamps and ponds that dot the course.
Strangely there were few creatures around. In years past I recall ducks, swans and geese that would populate the area but on Wednesday it was strangely silent. The deer were no doubt dining at nearby houses, which have better pickings than where I was. The frogs, I hope, were dormant sleeping in the mud.
The grass is lush but artificial considering the time of year. The horticultural steroid of nitrogen keeps the ground green and alive, but at a price. I think of my own little lawn that is just coming into its own without the benefit of fertilizer or excessive care and consider the difference. It already has the opportunistic weeds of clover and crabgrass making a home, which as far as I am concerned is great. Some patches are struggling to get 1 inch of grass while others are already thick and 4 inches high. The golf lawn, on the other hand, has no room or time for such diversity as its purpose is to provide a consistent and flawless platform from which to swing a golf club. My lawn’s purpose is to stop erosion and provide a home for all the little creatures that want to live near my house.
As I walked the course with Alan and chatting I couldn’t help but think about how to change the course. The easiest thing would be to replace or supplement the trees on the fairway with more visually interesting plants: white and paper birches, variegated and American holly, crabapple, viburnum, American hornbeam, persimmon, dogwoods, willow, poplar, butterfly bush, and sweet gum. The tee areas could be planted with herbs and bulbs and low bushes that have a good three-season display. And all of these things could be deer proof or at least resistant, which means no rhododendrons or azaleas. The possibilities are endless.
Regardless, Alan and I had a great time and he won our household version of the Ryder Cup for England, which meant beers were on me. As we sipped a pint looking out at the fairway late in the day I couldn’t help but feel a bit melancholy for my former impression of golf courses and my youth when my drives were straight and my garden knowledge incomplete.
