Gene Sarazen's Descriptive Essay: Palm Desert Golf

Outside the kitchen door, blooming wildflowers circle a mini pond where several birds drink from the lap of a stone Buddha. In the rear of the yard, secluded by a lush willow tree, is the guest house. He opens the door and we walk inside. Where, right off, the sight of lavender flowers in a vase on the night table and their scent please me. As does the bright and spacious room with a skylight right above the wood framed bed.

Arriving in the overgrown drive way trees start to crowd your vision, in the middle of all the trees I see an old beach house; that has stayed the same over the 18 years I have been going up there. Grandma is waiting outside on the front porch we all run up to give her a hug, then we go and start unpacking for a week’s worth of relaxing. First thing we do when were done unpacking is go to the old but new play structure. We sit on the swings and look out towards the big blue Michigan Lake. White caps cover most of the water along with passing boats, and some kayakers. Right over the horizon I can see the lights from the town, reaching into the sky. The sun is starting to set; the sky is painted with pink, orange, and yellow.

This is a critique of an article from the Claremont Institute Recovering the American Idea, A Golf Story, By: Thomas D. Klingenstein, Posted: April 17, 2011, this article appeared in: Vol. XI, Numbers 1 & 2 - Winter/Spring 2010/11. Barry Mills, the president of Bowdoin College, in his assembly address raised an imperative worry, he said, various parents are unwilling to send their kids to Bowdoin or to its sister schools in light of the fact that they are seen to be excessively liberal, and too withdrawn with standard America. To do this he recounted a golf anecdote about the article 's writer. The article’s writer defends himself against statements he says he never said. The writer according to Mills states, "I would never support

Once, a very long time ago, Vincent Van Gogh was said to have drunk yellow paint, hoping to gain happiness. Three years ago, I joined my school’s golf team for the same reason. I found myself isolated at school, realizing that I was pushing school work over my social life during my sophomore year. It was when I desperately struggled to surround myself with positivity that I found myself at the Santa Teresa Golf Course. The first few practices at a sport I had never touched was more upsetting than enjoyable. Unexpectedly, golf requires a mentality where the confidence to overcome obstacles is essential to successive progression in the sport. Being compared to my older sister at home, and then struggling to fit in at school, made self-doubt a

Are you looking for a good golf course? Your search will end at Trailridge golf course in Sun City West, Arizona.

The Desert Springs Golf course was the original course at the Sun City Grand which is a residential community which currently includes four public golf courses. The Desert springs Golf course has a stunning view due to its location as it is surrounded by the White Tank Mountains.

Palm Desert, located in Riverside Country, California, is a city of hot summers and warm winters, a parched metropolis bordering with Arizona and above all the native land to the Palm Desert Scene. This epithet name was given to a group of musicians and associated bands that originated from the region in the early nineties and became recognized as the villainous inventors of the Stoner Rock genre.

On the first hole at Kansas Golf Club I found myself pacing back and forth. Wiping the perspiration from my forehead, all sense of composure slowly surrendered to a not so ordinary nervousness. Don 't get me wrong, I had always been the “nervous” athlete, one that admired the mental prowess of professional athletes. Glorifying others’ attributes surely obstructed enhancement of my own. As the announcer recited my name to the small crowd I pushed my golf tee into the ground, what a magical feeling. My arms swung backward, this was it; I could not embarrass myself. This marked the beginning of my journey, elevating nervous feelings to performance threatening levels. Preventing the inevitable meltdown had been my worst enemy. I often questioned the meaning behind this inner turmoil, but never considered it a priority. I was on the brink of collapse. Was this new found anxiety a reflection of unconscious inclination? After years of subjective contemplation I arrived at one hypothesis: I lacked the experience and ability to outplay failure during adverse situations. Fixed between years of uncompromising commitment to golf and a college golf was an adverse situation. I had never been in the position to win on the last day, no experience of failure to guide me home. In the pursuit of self actualization one must succumb to adversity, experience failure, while maintaining unparalleled obstinacy

The course sits due east of the Fairfax water treatment facility. It is seated perfectly where players can whiff the unmistakable smells that the facility brings. Just east of the course is a quaint little park with an area with slides and monkey bars for the kids, and a covered patio for the adults to watch the children run and play. There are lots of trees guarding the fairways of the course waiting to grab

I breathe in the warm air as I gaze out at my beautiful home. So wide I’m not even certain I’ve seen all it’s beauty that lies beneath. I can see the shadows of tiny fish swimming above the soft sand. They are so small they look as though they are microscopic. I reach down and run my hands through the wet substance that is so thick that my muscles grow tired the deeper my hand goes. As I lift my hand up, the sand makes a cloud of powder, slowly drifting through the water. The waters are so calm as though nothing could anger them. Each wave slowly rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the sea. I lower my fins beneath the water and a coolness rushes through me as I feel the cold, wet water. The soft breeze brushes against my skin with the scent of an indescribable satisfaction. Hours passed as the warmth of the sun seemed to just soak into my skin and relax my mind.

The golf course is an oasis of artificiality in a desert of flat land and unnatural colors. While the surrounding landscape is endlessly flat, with only the trees and buildings obstructing the planar geography, the golf course is a diverse landscape with hills,

The most noticeable sound was the noise of the street nearby, the bustle of cars and students walking to and from class. However, that noise soon settled into the background and I could hear the uncommon sound of birds. Sitting down on one of the benches on the south side of the garden, I put down my backpack and quietly observed for a few minutes. Only after slowing down could I truly see and feel the subtleties of the natural world around me.

A soft wind runs over calm water, creating gentle ripples which lap at the murky surface. Taking a deep breath, an assault of fish scented pond water fills my nostrils, causing the sensitive sniffer to crinkle in disgust. The atmosphere, while calm, does nothing to smooth the grimace forming on my face at the swarm of gnats floating atop the algae infested water. What a pity that the once gleaming pond was now a waste pool. Gazing toward the grimy tarn, my eyes meander over a gliding flock of ducks swimming in the water closest to me. Dirt encrusted feathered bodies wade across the pond toward my resting place, each mammal following the other with no mind to the possible dangers. How funny, that even feathered mammals blindly follow one another.

Looking out the window of the second floor of my grandmother’s house, I see a large open yard with clumps of trees sprawled across the land, thick clusters of bushes and hedges surrounded the perimeter, and in the center a vast reflective pool. Almost like a piece of the sky fell down into the grass. This is where I decided what I wanted to do with my life. I would visit that pond as often as I possibly could. I’d beg my grandma to take me after school some days without my parents' knowledge. My parents scolded me, saying things like, “How could you not tell us where you were going!” Or “You had us worried sick!” But it was worth being there to envision my future. The pond was a thriving oasis of life in the lush backyard. Dragonflies danced across the water's surface, frogs floated on large lily pads and fallen logs, and small minnows schooled around the shallow rim. On the bank deer and wild boar would quench their thirst in the refreshing pool. And on a central floating log, my favorite creature, a lone Red-Eared Slider. I had no idea how he got there, but he was the only one in the pond. He was barely the size of a quarter, if not less, and I was worried a bird or raccoon would devour him. So naturally I brought him home to my house in the suburbs.

The sun was still below the horizon but the clouds above the mountains were tainted the color of pomegranates. Around me the shadows seemed empty. I tried not to look into the brush as I walked down the driveway. I had stopped before, looking to see the back of the shadows; staring hard, only to have them retreat from my eyes indefinitely. Invisible birds called from within. Their sound followed me down the driveway and onto the road.