"Geez, what a beautiful day!"

Dad grinned at me as we approached the first tee last Sunday at Rehoboth Beach Country Club. We were just starting a friendly round of six-six-six with Tom Lewis and Earl Linn, two of his buddies.

The weather was remarkable--about 60 degrees, little or no breeze, and nearly cloudless skies. Black ducks and Canada geese were busy feeding in nearly every pond. "I love it when it’s sweater weather," Dad said. Despite the great playing conditions, however, especially for early November in the Cape Region, there were very few golfers out and about.

Linn wore a dapper hat and a near permanent wry grin, no matter what he scored. He used a grapefruit-sized driver to keep his tee shots short but steady nearly all day.

Lewis, the former mayor of Henlopen Acres, frequently drove off the white tees for surprisingly long yardage. His adventures usually started with his second shots.

Dad was a bit more inconsistent off the tee than the last time we played. A pop-up drive would then be followed by a good recovery. "I can’t understand why I can hit this club so well off the fairway, but can’t seem to get a good drive with it off the tee," he’d groan on occasion. His play improved around the green, especially with the prospect of winning a dollar or two.

During the first four holes, I developed a keen sense of adventure. Several tee shots took off for places the golf architect never thought possible. I managed to play better after switching to irons off the tees.

I always enjoy golfing with my father and his friends. They still believe in the possibility of improvement. They delight in the occasional well-placed chip or daring putt, no matter whose it is. They also enjoy the opportunity to tease and laugh with each other, and take the time to notice the scenery around them.

It’s not always how well you play, but how well you can enjoy the beauty all around you, and the company you keep as you play.

The Leaf Rule and Other Tree Issues. (The following appeared originally in the fall of 1999. I’ve had a trial this week, and came up a bit short on time for writing about golf.)

Around this time in the Cape Region, the leaves begin to fall in earnest. This annual event also brings into use a major American contribution to the Rules of Golf—The Leaf Rule.

The Leaf Rule is fairly simple to explain. Suppose a player hits a drive and can trace its trajectory to a spot in the rough or fairway. Nonetheless, after a diligent search for the required five minutes, neither the player nor the playing partners can find the ball among the orange, yellow, and brown leaves covering the turf.

Under the strict Rules of Golf, at this point the ball is to be declared officially lost. The player is supposed to return to the original spot and try again, with a penalty stroke added in, apparently just for spite.

On the other hand, it’s hard to find anyone who actually follows the Rules of Golf in these circumstances.

Instead, the player announces in a loud voice that The Leaf Rule is going to be used, drops a new ball in the approximate location she believes it actually landed, and plays on without a penalty stroke.

The creator of The Leaf Rule was a genius

After all, golf was first played along sand dunes and bogs. There simply weren’t any trees around. Once it was decided to play in tree-lined park settings, an adjustment such as the Leaf Rule was needed to keep golfers from going crazy.

The coming of fall often has another effect on golfers and their relationship to trees (or, as they are also called, Aerial Biomass Hazards). Players attempt far more risky shots close to now-bare oaks and maples, on the well-known theory that with the leaves gone, the trees are "90 per cent air."

This theory is hypothetically correct and factually impossible.

Golfers usually take cover when their playing partners tell them they believe in the theory, and attempt a recovery shot.

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