This morning we teed off at 6:45, 15 minutes before official sunrise. The direction of the first drive is pure guesswork. Two months ago, we started closer to 5:30. The last weekend of summer is almost over.
I love early morning golf. The first footsteps on a dew washed fairway as the sun rises are signs that all is right with the world. Our laughter intermingles with the morning songs of the birds. Sometimes, a solitary coyote cuts across our line as he looks for a quiet spot to sleep the day away. As we make the turn and play the last few holes on the way back to the clubhouse, the sun shines through the trees making greens look like stained glass lit cathedrals.
Soon, we’ll be hunting for errant golfballs amidst the golden leaves and, not long after that, we’ll experience the first frost delay of the fall. The golf season is all too short and we will grab every opportunity to play even if it means we start to look like Michelin men as we ward off the morning chill.
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