Whenever possible, I play golf.
Prior to hitting my first-ever tee shot, I openly scoffed at the sport and the artificial environment on which it was played. Any desire I had to play must have been buried deep within, but now that I've played more than a few times, my interest level has risen quickly. To my surprise I have also gained a new appreciation for the courses themselves.
Though mostly manicured and pampered, golf courses are also a blend of vast expanses of relatively unspoiled woodlands. A spectacular oak tree left in a fairway not only adds an extra element of play; it reminds golfers they are navigating their ball through the natural world around them.
This dichotomy of two worlds is designed to challenge mind and body and wasn't something I fully understood prior to spending time within them. As a landscape designer, I usually want my projects to mimic a natural environment. Golf seemed to be the antithesis of all the design paradigms I held dear.
Golf course turf has long been divisive: envied by homeowners as the ultimate in lawn care yet ridiculed by those contemptuous of the use of artificial chemicals. Though I will not use chemicals on my own property, I have come to be amazed at what is possible when a lawn is put on a steady diet of drugs and fertilizers.
My long-held biases with the game also included disdain for the land occupied by a course – seemingly wasted space set-aside for the retired or elite. Now, with a new understanding of the game, I can see that if a parcel of land is to be developed, I’d be glad for a hundred acres of greenery instead of the added population density and resource grabbing a new housing development would create.
As a relatively new ‘duffer’, my appreciation of a courses’ wild fringe comes from frequent errant shots into the woods. On occasion while rummaging for balls, I have seen some beautiful mushrooms and impressive snakes.
Mis-hitting a shot in New York frequently results in a game of pinball between trees. While embarrassing and irritating, I don’t give much thought to damaging trees I have accidentally brought into my round. A golf ball doesn't seem like much of a threat to a giant Oak or Maple.
It struck me differently though when, during a recent golf outing on a desert course, my typical wayward tee shot blasted away from the carpet grass and ricocheted off the arm of an ancient Saguaro cactus. Somehow, hitting the cactus seemed ecologically and spiritually damaging in a way I’d not experienced back home. And, though I apologized to the desert giant for the disturbance, its needle-spines would not release my ball.
With my current skill-set, I am simply enjoying the exhilaration and frustrations of the game and the time spent outdoors. I do have confidence that, as my game improves, I’ll have more opportunity to observe the grass species in the fairways.
