It’s August, and it’s very hot and humid here in Georgia.
It doesn’t bother me, though, because for the first time in 22 summers, I am living through a summer that is going to end.
Mike, isn’t that a little bit of an exaggeration? Summers in California don’t last forever.
No, they just seem to. You cannot imagine how frustrating it is to someone who loves the changing seasons to go outside in the middle of December and find that it’s 90 degrees outside.
By that same token, you cannot imagine how wonderful it was for me last December to play 18 holes of golf here at Sun City Peachtree when it was 28 degrees outside. I was the only person on the entire course, and I was too bundled up to score well, but it was so much fun to feel cold.
In winter, the Bermuda grass is anything but green. When they told me how beautiful it would be in summertime, it was almost impossible to believe. But now, whenever I’m out on the course, or just when I drive down Spring Forest past the first and ninth holes, the course is the most gorgeous shade of green you could ever imagine.
And me? As much as I like it, I’m looking forward to seeing the green disappear for the winter.
I’m looking forward to the fall, too. For the first time since the ’80s, I’m back in a part of the country where college football really matters. Folks around here are already talking about the Dawgs (Georgia), the National Champion Auburn Eagles, ‘Bama and all the other big programs.
We didn’t get here last year until just about the end of the season, and most of the excitement for Georgia schools was pretty well past. But what’s great about football Saturdays in the fall is that sometimes they’re chilly.
This might seem like a strange post for the first week in August. Earlier this week, I shot a 39 on the front nine and was only two over par on the back nine when I decided to call it a day because of the heat. I was on track to shoot a 78 or 79, but I play often enough that I could walk away and not feel bad about it.
Anyway, summer will be over before I know it.