A note from Maurice Nelligan, dated November 2008.

The weather has been indifferent to put it mildly over this year. There is little trace of our supposed global warming and the long summers and indeed even droughts that were foretold. Indeed the precise opposite has been true. The warming is predicted on computer model, the reality by looking out the window.The hardy golfers of Dooks take it all in their stride so much so that sanity must occasionally be doubted as these foul weather warriors head out into rain and wind. So much is this the case that the committee have recently considered establishing a new prize to go along with the ‘golfer of the year’ award and calling it the ‘lunatic of the year’ trophy, golfing ability would be no help in deciding the outcome of the prize merely an indifference to what passes as normality amongst the rest of us.Today is Halloween and I played what could barely pass for golf in even the kindest description. It did not matter at all. Anybody who could not be awed by the face that Dooks presented to the world on this magical day could have no soul. It was cold clear and the occasional clouds strolling leisurely from the north created patterns of shadow and light that were ethereal and almost unreal. The tide was making its way across the sands in its age old pattern and the waders fed along the shoreline retreating reluctantly before the tentacles of the spreading water. From every vantage point the views were different and constantly changing. The fickle light threw valleys and hills into different shapes and soft and hard outlines. Smoke from turf fires bent lazily toward the south and sounds carried clearly in the stillness.There was beauty all around far and near. Underfoot and in the rough there were exotic fungi, multicoloured reds and yellows certain of their place in the scheme of things. There were late cornflowers and blackberries fading away. The usual wildlife was out and about, a sparrow hawk creating havoc amongst the fieldfares feeding on the fairways and the usual hares going speedily about their business.The sun tracked slowly above Seefin on its journey to the west and its passage darkened the shadows of the Reeks in the distance. Shafts of sunlight across the course and the bay probed the valleys on the Dingle peninsula and one memorable beam clearly lit the valley at Annascaul, passing between the unlit pillars at its entrance. Every aspect proudly proclaimed unmatched beauty for those with eyes to see and spirit to appreciate. We share a wonderful experience, fellow members and on this mystical day I am sure that those gone before are allowed back to play in wonderland once again.It’s hard to play good golf in such surroundings. That’s my excuse and I have no apologies for it. I am humbly grateful as I’m sure we all are to be the guardians of this magic place.

Written by Maurice Nelligan for the Dooks Autumn Newsletter, 2008.