I was one of four lady golfers who decided to get out on the course and play as much as possible before the rain stopped us.
The skies over Lake Superior were dark and roiling, due to one of those abrupt temperature changes (you know—the temperature drops from 80 to 40 within minutes.) But golfers are a hardy, if somewhat driven, bunch and we lady golfers in Superior National’s Tuesday night fun league never let a little bit of weather stop us.
The hurricane center in Atlanta could issue warnings— we’d still play.
Frost could rim the greens—we’d play.
Torrential rain could fall— we’d play until bucketfuls fell or hailstones rattled the cart tops.
We are typical golfers.
The only force of nature every golfer respects is lightning, but no lightning had been spotted so although the skies were dark four of us began playing.
The first lady had just hit her drive when someone mentioned she saw lightning over Lake Superior.
A bit optimistically, I commented that usually the lake’s weather dissipates when hitting the land, so why don’t we play a bit longer. I might have been slightly inaccurate, and I wasn’t trying to mislead anyone, but I felt a really good game coming on and hated to see the weather ruin it.
We golfers are not only hearty and driven but also hope-filled.
Confidently, I hit my first drive. Truthfully, it wasn’t that great, but I figured to save myself with my second shot.
The clouds still moved swiftly overhead, becoming darker, but we sort of ignored them, regrouped and moved down the fairway and closer to the green.
I truly felt that my second shot would save the great game that I just knew hovered just within my grasp—if only the weather would cooperate.
My second shot didn’t do exactly what I wanted but… there was still a chance to improve on the third shot.
Someone remarked she had just seen a bolt of lightning flash over Lake Superior. Thisdilemma brought another round of discussion.
By now we were worried but since we were so close to the green, group consensus was to try finishing this first hole; if things got bad, we were close to the clubhouse and could make a quick run for it.
Visualizing my next shot—a chip that would save my score and maybe even make par—I raced the golf cart forward through the strengthening wind and darkening skies.
But as I jumped from the cart with putter and wedge in hand, the skies over Lake Superior blazed with four spectacular sky-to-earth lightning bolts.
Not a word was uttered. In unison, we jumped into our carts and high-tailed it to the clubhouse.
We streaked for the clubhouse as if a pack of wolves were nipping at our heels. This was not the time to argue with Mother Nature.
As rain fell in torrents, we joined the other golfers in the clubhouse and socialized for a time, hoping the skies would clear, but eventually I gave up this day’s dream of the perfect golf game and went home.
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