I Think We Need A Break...

...from all things political.  

I know I do.

Most politicians are toxic and should have warning labels tattooed on their forehead so you know to avoid direct contact.

I could spend every blog entry delving into their constant lies and misdeeds, but it's just too depressing.

So instead of focusing on the dregs of humanity ↴

top row: wicked witch of the west and cryin' chuck
bottom row: dumb and dumber

 

↳ today we're going to embrace happier themes.

You're welcome.

We're less than 2 weeks away from the big day...

...so time to crank up production again at our seasonal treat factory headquarters.

word to the wise: avoid working the graveyard shift.

Off to a slow start but never fear...we'll be fully operational before you can say "what the heck have we gotten ourselves into?"

We also interviewed our final candidate for this year's Walk Of Fear™:

A grim looking fellow, I didn't hold out much hope.

"Must have been a very good pumpkin harvest this year," I suggested.

"You're the 11th pumpkin we've had applying for this opening.

"Why should we use you?"

He tried to explain...

...but as you can hear, didn't really say much.

"Thank you for not talking with your mouth full," I told him, "but you might want to see a dental surgeon about that...um, problem.

"Appreciate your interest; we'll let you know."

We also contacted Big Frank who kindly agreed to grace us with his presence again...

...but only if he was under the flag.

Who knew?  Big Frank's a patriot.

Still have to check on the rest of the gang, currently hibernating in the garage.

More to come...

As I've delved into the history of feathery golf, an interesting mystery has presented itself:

It seems golfers of old were whacking the little leather spheres quite a bit farther than us, their modern counterparts.

While there are only 2 current versions of featheries being produced today, there have been various iterations that have come and gone over the last 50 years or so.

All of them have (or had) the same issue: they don't measure up in terms of distance achieved.

So what was a good drive with featheries in the early 1800s?

While there are records of ridiculously long drives exceeding 350 yards (think flat frozen ground and a stiff tailwind), it seems 150 to 200 yards was not unusual.

Our friends Down Under at the Authentic Feathery Golf Ball Co. claim their balls can be hit 160 yards.

Intrigued, I shelled out for 2 of their LION (OS) - OverSized - balls and gave them a try.

Here they are after 9 holes:

The one on the right barely survived 5 holes, then I switched to the one on the left for the last 4 holes.

I did strike them 100 to 110 yards from the tee, but you'd need a cannon to achieve their spurious claim of 160 yards (and a garbage bag to pick up whatever was left of them afterwards).

On the other hand, Lane Co. claims 80 to 100 yards is about average for their featheries...

...which matches precisely my experience with their ball (and it's MUCH more durable than the LION ball).

So what was the secret ingredient present in yesteryear's featheries that's missing from today's versions?

To date, no one seems to know.

Apparently manufacturers back then did not leave detailed instructions behind re: their process, probably for the same reason industries keep secrets today:

The basic idea with featheries is simple enough:

Both the leather and feathers are wet during production; as they dry, the leather shrinks and the feathers expand, making a solid ball.

Did they just stuff more feathers into the leather spheres than they do today, thus producing a higher compression ball?

Or did they treat the ingredients with something that caused them to expand - or the leather to contract - more than normal?

Whatever their "secret sauce" was then, it remains so today.

And while I appreciate a commitment to traditional methods and materials, from a practical standpoint I'm more interested in results.

Golfers of old - as golfers now - did not gather up their equipment and trek to the links to have roundtable discussions re: manufacturing technology.

They swung their hickories and played the game they loved.

For those of us who still perform the black arts of hickory golfery...

...is "historical accuracy" important?

Of course it is.

I swing hand made hickory clubs crafted according to templates from the pre-1900 era.

It's really a question of what's more important: materials and methodology, or results?

Both would be ideal, but if forced to choose, I'll take historically accurate results any day of the week.

In my world, the "must haves" to qualify as a feathery golf ball include a leather cover and some feathers inside.

Beyond that, anything else required from a methods and materials standpoint is fine with me as long as I swing and it lands 140 or so yards away.

Neither of today's feathery golf ball companies are there yet, but at least the LANE ball is durable.

And Hickory Lane keeps working to improve performance, with word of a recent breakthrough re: distance that sounds promising.

For now, my plans for what's left of this rapidly disappearing season...

...remain the same: continue playing feathery golf on my local but treacherous par 3 course.

Next year?  Time will tell.

Maybe the good folks at Hickory Lane will indeed have improved their featheries to within spitting distance of their ancient forebears.

I hope so; 'twould be lovely to spend the rest of my days playing feathery golf.

Time for everyone's favorite oddity, 23 Skidoo:

the continuing saga of Chippy: he pokes his head up from his hole in our wall and wonders, "what's that delightful smell?"

"Ah," thinks he, "lunch!"

we leave our diminutive hero to his delicious repast.

some colorful mid-october sunrises from Larry's cottage "up north"

not quite as "sour grapes" as it sounds.  a recent review of multiple games involving KC showed clear evidence of penalties NOT called on KC when lesser infractions of the same kind were absolutely called on opponents.  this is known as "the michael jordan effect", where the league shamelessly protects and promotes whatever's making them money.  in other words, this ain't a sport, folks; it's a business and the bottom line is still the bottom line.

Turns out Mom and Dad were right after all when they kept after us to get up off our butts and get busy doing something useful:

"10  Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep:

"11  So shall thy poverty come as one that travelleth, and thy want as an armed man."

    - Proverbs 6:10,11

later, mcm fans...

We Recently Said Goodbye...

...to a trusted business partner and a valued friend:  

Michael Mroczyk

I used to kid Michael about his last name, telling him he needed to buy a vowel.

As with all our interactions, business and personal, he took it with good humor.

Fortuitous for me; a 5th degree black belt, he was your basic real life Bad@ss.

He exhibited the best qualities of humanity - competence, loyalty, dependability, honor, integrity.

If Michael said it, you knew it was so.

A courageous fighter in everything he did, yet he laughed easily and often.

After a long and arduous struggle with pancreatic cancer, he finally succumbed, and the world is a poorer place.

He is greatly missed by all who knew him.

Prayers of comfort to his beloved wife Martha, and to his family.

We've had a month of above normal temperatures and boatloads of sunshine, but this week Autumn hath returned.

Along with it came the annual "end of summer" tragedy:

Yep, we closed the pool, and it will be at least 7 months, maybe 8, before we can enjoy it again.

Let the boo-hoo'ing begin in earnest.

One of the things I'm not crying about is my continued foray into the world of pre-1850 feathery golf.

We really should come up with another name for this activity because it sounds like we're playing with down pillows and feather dusters and nothing could be further from the truth.

It's real golf, just with the type of balls they used back then: hand stitched leather spheres...

...filled with goose down feathers.

I understand why that sounds questionable; how can anything substantial be made from feathers?

Indeed, one of my acquaintances asked, "When you hit them, how long does it take for them to float back down to earth?"

Another suggested since they're made of goose down they'd be good hand warmers on cold mornings.

Everyone's a comedian.

All I can say is, it's like that childhood gotcha question:

"Which is heavier: a ton of bricks or a ton of feathers?"

A modern golf ball weigh 1.62 ounces.

"Featheries" weigh anywhere from 1.4 ounces (LANE by Hickory Lane)...

...all the way up to 2 ounces (JUMBO by the Authentic Feathery Golf Ball Co).

So featheries are pretty close to the same weight as modern balls; some are even heavier.

You just can't hit them as far.

Like the clubs we use, featheries are hand made - thus "perfectly imperfect" - and are the lowest of the low compression balls out there.

If you can get past that - if you can embrace the authentic historicity of golf's origins - then you can begin to let go of 100+ years of "distance obsession"* and learn to appreciate "Auld Golf".

2nd shot to the green

3 putt for bogey (ball is on the far left) and yes, that is the moon in the top right

teeing off on #6

#8, the only hole you cannot avoid hitting over water unless you hit out of bounds onto the service road.  held my breath and struck a perfect short spoon over the water and onto the green.

It's still pretty new to me, but at this point I don't honestly know if I'll ever go back to post-1850 (i.e., gutta percha) hickory golf.

I'm enjoying the economy of geography while still experiencing the strategy of golf.

Just need to find a par 3 course that doesn't try to drown my featheries on every hole.

* "I hold the firm opinion that from this date we lost sight of the essential attitude towards accuracy.  This was the start of the craze for length and still more length."

    - Harry Vardon, 6 time winner of The Open

Is it that time already?

Very well.

Faster than a greasy mullet!  More powerful than a questionable motive!  Able to see small buildings in a nearby town!

Look, pie in the sky!  It's absurd!  It's insane!

Nah, it's just 23 Skidoo...

the return of Fall brought cold mornings with it.

my bull riding grandson and his new bride.  praying for them as they begin their married journey together.  Ephesians 5:22-33.

Karen snapped this pic of herons flying in formation while we were sitting out front one evening...

...she also gussied up our thermometer post a bit.  gotta love begonias...

...and she made another delicious apple pie.  if you're wondering what I do around here, I've got the most important job of all:  I do as I'm told.

testing out a potential All Hallows display, non-scary variety.

my 2x (or 3x) per year task of defrosting the freezer of my Philco V-handle.  ah, the good ol' days.

By now you've heard President Trump has negotiated 8 ceasefires between warring factions all over the world.

The most impressive one is the Israel / Hamas ceasefire and hostage release.  It's also the least stable due to the treacherous nature of Hamas.

Heads of state all around the world have called for Trump to receive this year's Nobel Peace prize, and rightly so.

No one in history has made peace a priority with such vigor and success as he has, and all within a span of 9 months.

Even Israeli farmers made the case for Trump:

But in keeping with the dumbing down of all things Nobel, he was passed over for a <Venezuelan politician in hiding>.

To her credit - and to the left wing media's horror - said politician <dedicated her prize to Trump>.

A welcome gesture, but not enough to obscure the painful truth about the Nobel committee:

Their awards are irrelevant.

When you give a "peace prize" to a terrorist (Arafat, 1994), you've obviously lost the plot.

Remember climate huckster <Al "I invented the internet!" Gore> winning in 2007 for his climate hoax predictions?

Rush Limbaugh had a countdown clock that he started in 2006 after Gore made one of his ridiculous "10 years and the end!" claims:

It expired on January 27, 2016 and waddyaknow?  Nothing happened, because Gore's a dishonest dolt.

At least he fooled the gullible twits on the Nobel committee.

And how about Obama's big win in 2009?

Remind me again...that was for what, exactly?

His ability to read saccharine platitudes ("hopey changey") from a teleprompter?

His apology tour to Muslim countries, where he obsequiously bowed to anyone and everyone wearing a <keffiyeh>?

At this point it's safe to conclude Nobel prizes are about as meaningful as pixie dust and griffin feathers.

They're also a reminder that if what we do is motivated solely by the praise of men, then we're wasting our time:

"1  Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them: otherwise ye have no reward of your Father which is in heaven.

"2  Therefore when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory of men.  Verily I say unto you, they have their reward.

"3  But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth:

"4  That thine alms may be in secret: and thy Father which seeth in secret Himself shall reward thee openly."

    - Matthew 6:1-4

later, mcm fans...

Ah, October...

 

...a versicolor bridge between arid Summer and algid Winter. 

Admittedly, it's a bridge I'd rather not cross.

'Twould be much nicer to simply linger here, enjoying the vibrant colors, crisp mornings and pleasant afternoons with their slanting sunshine and elongated shadows.

Alas, there's a metaphysical

sign posted on our bridge, and so we must trundle along from September to November, post haste.

But as we do we should be sure to dawdle just a bit along the way to sample October's delightful wares:

world's best apple pie, courtesy of Karen.  no idea what the extra forks are about; I only need one.

some (hard) cider and warm donuts right out of the oven...from Knaebe's Apple Orchard in Rogers City...worth the trip

gotta visit a local pumpkin patch; if you've got kids, it's the law...they'll sic the pumpkin patch police on you if you're awol

no autumn is complete sans everyone's seasonal favorite, leaf-peeping

leave us not forget the grand finale, all hallows e'een...

...when trick 'r treaters stop by for a little old school spookification in the Walk of Fear™, some goodies and a gospel tract

It'll be gone before you know it, so go ahead...immerse yourself in the renewal and change of October.

As F. Scott Fitzgerald said, "Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the Fall."

Speaking of All Hallows, the interview process for the Walk of Fear™ continued this week, with a surprising turn of events.

The previous three applicants were all in the waiting room with the new guy.

"What's going on here?" I demanded.  "I told you I'd be in touch if you get the job!"

"I think we look pretty good together," the new guy offered.

"Don't get a big head," I admonished him.

"Too late," he replied with a toothy grin.

What?  Too obvious?

Well look who knows so much!

Why don't you try coming up with clever lines for a bunch of plastic blow mold halloween decorations.

Anyway, I threatened to drop him off at the farmers market if he didn't back off.

We'll see what next week brings.

This week's HGU* involves a new endeavor for me:

A foray into the world of pre-1850 feathery golf.

Yep, it's been more than a year since I <originally mentioned featheries>, and I finally enjoyed my first round with them.

And I did actually enjoy it, in spite of playing at a local par 3 that I don't really like that much.

It has water and sand on every hole, with its lower jaw thrust out and a chip on its shoulder, just dying to prove it's "real golf", even if it is just a par 3 course.

Would have been better if they'd dropped the attitude, leaned into their par 3-ness and made a course that's fun and interesting, not pointlessly nasty.

Every error is punished with either a sand trap / bunker shot or a lost ball in the water.

But without driving an hour my options are limited, so I sallied forth, clubs and feathery in hand...

l to r: long spoon, hickory lane feathery, brassie, lofter, putter

...to give it a shot.

The people who make the feathery I used claim most folks can hit their ball 80 to 100 yards, and sadly, that turned out to be true for me as well.

In my case part of the reason for that paltry number is being terrified of slicing or hooking one into the water when teeing off.

At $30 a pop, that's an expensive ball to banish to Davey Jones' locker.

forget a slice, even a slight fade will get wet on this hole; aim left

Either way, it's an area I hope to improve on in the few rounds I have left this year.

Since I needed to hit around all the water hazards rather than over them, I played most holes as dogleg par 4's.

Another gotcha with featheries happens on the greens.

Considering their not quite round shape, they roll pretty true most of the time.

my 1 putt for par on the first hole, which happily I made.  1 up after one.

Most; not always.

Thus on a couple of occasions a short 3 footer took an unexpected left (or right) turn en route to the cup.

Even so I found this to be surprisingly rewarding.

teeing off on the 150 yard 5th hole.  I played this as a par 4 and ended up with a bogey.  +1 at that point in the match.

I had the first tee time with no one behind me, so I managed 9 holes in 45 minutes, and that was taking some extra time on the greens to practice putting.

tapped in for par on #9 and a 1 up win in my first ever round of feathery golf.

Overall I found this to be more fun than someone my age should be allowed to have.

I actually tried 2 different feathery golf balls:

- the Hickory Lane one with which I played my round;

- and one from the Authentic Featherie Company in Australia that goes by the "Lion" brand.  I hit it as an extra non-scoring shot now and then from the tees, fairways and on the green.

You can see the Lion ball is quite a bit smaller; it's actually a tad smaller than a modern ball, which is annoying.

Unlike their modern counterparts, hickory clubs have a small sweet spot, about the size of a nickel.

Now picture yourself trying to hit something smaller than a regular golf ball that's not perfectly round.

You can imagine some of the results.

And what if one of those mis-hits ends up in the tall grass?

Happy hunting.

The Lion ball is also mucho mas dinero than the Lane.  

With apologies to our friends from Down Under, my advice is stick with <Hickory Lane Featheries>.

Can honestly say I'd be happy playing nothing but feathery golf from now on if I could find a par 3 course not quite as muscular as the one here in Holland.

Was tight on the tees where a simple mis-hit would drop my Hickory Lane feathery in the drink, and there's no question relaxed = better play.

Hoping to get 2 outings per week for the next 3 or 4 weeks, and all of them will be featheries.

Next season?

Stay tuned.

*HGU = Hickory Golf Update

Time to 23 Skidoo:

mums in bloom now

moonlight on the water at Larry's cottage

un petite mystere...something keeps knocking the solar light off the post where our thermometer resides

if they do it again we'll know they have opposable thumbs and a philips head screwdriver...firmly attached now

first October sunrise at Larry's cottage...

...and an October sunset by our pool

with permission from the Mistress of the Manor, I'm removing stuff that shouldn't be there, blocking the view of Dean Bryant Vollendorf's wall...

...and voila!  much better.

This has been an unusual September / early October, with temps averaging 10 to 15 degrees above normal, and loads of sunshine.

Not complaining - a rarity, I know.

The sunshine is wonderful, but I've actually missed mornings in the 40's and low 50's when I'm prowling the local links with my hickories.

Today we're headed to one of my grandsons' wedding, and it will probably be in the mid 80's when they tie the knot.

Supposedly Autumn returns next week, and I'll welcome the change of weather to something more Octoberish.

Either way I'm thankful to be vertical and able to take nourishment;

I'm thankful for God's provision and protection:

" 1  Except th LORD build the house, they labor in vain that build it: except the LORD keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.

" 2  It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so He giveth his beloved sleep."

    - Psalms 127:1-2

later, mcm fans...