Friday, June 20, 2025

Still Here – Still Fighting

For nearly two decades, I’ve walked this property every day. I’ve poured my energy, my time, and frankly my life into making this golf course better.  I didn’t do it just for the sake of turf and trees, but for the members and guests who deserve the best version of Kenmure. That’s why, when I hear someone say I don’t care about the course, or worse, don’t care about the membership it cuts deep.

Let me be clear: I care more than most will ever know. I’ve worked nearly seven days a week since early spring. I’ve been here through economic downturns, floods, management changes, and crew turnovers. I stayed when it would’ve been easier to leave. I stayed because I believed this place could bounce back. And it has.

But let me also be honest: it's disrespectful and unmotivating to hear those kinds of comments. Especially when they come from people who don’t see what happens behind the scenes. They weren’t out here during the tropical storm, watching a full year’s worth of work get washed away. They didn’t work through mud and fallen trees or patch up washed-out greens. They didn’t rebuild the crew when we were down to two people. I did. With the help of a few incredibly dedicated folks, we did.

This course looks as good today as it ever has, maybe even better. Not because of luck, not because of outside pressure, but because of steady, consistent commitment. I’m proud of that. And I'm proud of my team, many of whom were brand new to golf course maintenance but eager to learn, and they’re thriving now.

To the members who have offered kind words, encouragement, or even just a nod of appreciation: thank you. That support means more than you know. To those who still doubt or criticize, I’d just ask you to look around and ask yourself one question, does this look like the work of someone who doesn’t care?

Because I’m still here. Still fighting. And still giving everything I’ve got to this golf course.

Saturday, June 14, 2025

From My Perspective

 Why Accusing a Long-Time Golf Course Superintendent of “Not Caring” Cuts So Deep

After nearly two decades of 4 a.m. alarms, frost checks, soil probes, and member conversations, hearing that you “don’t care about the course or its players” isn’t just a misunderstanding—it’s a gut punch. Here’s why.


1. Nineteen Years of Sweat Equity

A superintendent who has tended the same property for 19 years has literally grown up with its fairways:

  • Historical knowledge. They know when a green was rebuilt, which bunker drains clog after a two-inch rain, and the exact fungicide rotation needed to keep anthracnose away.

  • Personal milestones. They remember the member-guest when a thunderstorm dumped three inches in an hour—and stayed through the night to pump bunkers so play could resume at sunrise.

  • Community roots. They’ve watched juniors become club champions, seen weddings on the 18th lawn, and consoled families scattering ashes beside a favorite tee.

Suggesting they’re indifferent ignores a career’s worth of lived experience and emotional landmarks.


2. Caring More Than the Corner Office

Upper managers and ownership often see the course as a balance-sheet asset. Superintendents see it as a living organism that can betray you if you miss a detail:

  • Daily proximity. While executives review financials in climate-controlled offices, the superintendent walks miles each day, fingers in the turf, gauging moisture by feel.

  • Long-term vision. Owners may chase quarterly savings; supers plan ten-year drainage upgrades and nurture turf genetics that mature over seasons.

  • Member pulse. They field every “Why are we aerifying again?” at the bag drop and can recite which members need slower greens after knee surgery.

So when criticism comes from above—or from golfers taking cues from above—it stings precisely because no one else carries that weight.


3. The Disrespect and Its Domino Effect

Labeling a veteran superintendent as apathetic is more than rude; it’s unmotivating for the entire grounds team.

  • Erosion of trust. Staff question, “If the boss gets trashed despite all that effort, why bother?”

  • Recruitment & retention. Turf professionals already face a labor shortage. Disrespect drives talented assistants elsewhere.

  • Member experience. Morale dips, details slip, and the very playing conditions critics complain about can suffer.

In short, morale is as fragile as bentgrass in July heat.


4. Why It Hurts on a Human Level

Golf course maintenance is a vocation of invisible victories—disease not breaking, weeds not sprouting, dry spots not appearing. The reward is usually silence. To replace that silence with criticism feels like betrayal.

  • Identity entwined with turf. After 19 years, the superintendent’s professional identity is the course. Attack one, you attack the other.

  • Sacrifice. Missed holidays, 70-hour tournament weeks, skipped vacations when summer storms hit—these sacrifices amplify the sting of “you don’t care.”

  • Pride of craft. Turf work is equal parts science and art. Dismissing that artistry devalues a lifetime of specialized knowledge.


5. A Constructive Alternative

If conditions slip—or simply fail to meet sky-high expectations—dialogue beats accusation.

  1. Ask for the “why.” Turf setbacks often have environmental or budgetary roots invisible to casual observers.

  2. Align priorities. Discuss playability goals versus aesthetic preferences; resources are finite.

  3. Support, don’t scapegoat. Empower supers with the budget, labor, and authority they need instead of reflexively assigning blame.

Respectful collaboration turns criticism into a catalyst for improvement rather than a demotivating blow.


6. Conclusion

Calling a 19-year superintendent uncaring is like telling a parent they’re indifferent to their child’s well-being. It disregards history, expertise, and countless unseen hours of toil. More importantly, it undermines the very performance everyone wants: world-class playing conditions and a thriving club culture.

Before lobbing that accusation, walk a predawn loop with the superintendent. Feel the dew, watch the sun climb over the tree line, and listen to the thoughtful silence as they survey their life’s work. You’ll find that caring is not the issue—being given the respect, resources, and recognition to keep caring relentlessly is.

Tuesday, May 27, 2025

End of May Update 2025

 

As we move forward into 2025, I want to share some exciting updates and reflections on the journey we've been on together.

We are nearly past the challenges brought by Hurricane Helene. The course has made a remarkable recovery—most of the damage is behind us. The 17th green still bears a few scars, but with continued care and topdressing, it will fully heal over the summer. The creek banks have been restored, giving hole 18 a new look with rockier areas that will settle back in time.

We've also paved the cart paths, eliminating those rough patches and making navigation smoother. This is just one of the many improvements we've made, and there are more to come.

Reflecting on the journey since the golf club changed ownership, we've come a long way. After losing my entire staff except for my mechanic in 2023, I've built a dedicated team who are now in their third season with us. Their hard work and commitment are evident in every blade of grass, and I couldn't be prouder of what we've achieved together.

This year has been exceptional. Western North Carolina saw a record April with no freeze conditions, allowing our bentgrass to thrive early in the season. We set records with our aerification and pre-emergent herbicide applications, laying the groundwork for a healthy, weed-free course through the summer.

Our infrastructure is aging, but we maintain it with pride and dedication. The greens, constructed in 1983, remain smooth and beautiful, offering a unique challenge that sets Kenmure apart. While our rough is notoriously tough due to the dense creeping bentgrass, it’s this kind of challenge that makes the course enjoyable and rewarding.

I want to thank our amazing team, from the new staff who have grown into their roles to our mechanics department, which has consistently delivered excellence for over a decade. It's their hard work and passion that make all of this possible.

Thank you for your continued support and enthusiasm. We look forward to a fantastic season ahead, with healthy turf, beautiful greens, and memorable rounds at Kenmure.

Tree of Heaven May Be the Poster Child, But These Invasive Plants Are Just as Dangerous

If you've heard one invasive plant name on repeat over the last few years, it's Tree of Heaven (Ailanthus altissima). It’s in the spotlight for good reason—fast-growing, allelopathic, nearly impossible to kill, and the preferred host of the notorious spotted lanternfly. But while Tree of Heaven dominates headlines and invasive species campaigns, a quiet group of equally destructive invaders continues to spread across our forests, roadsides, and managed landscapes with far less fanfare.

It's time we give some long-overdue attention to a cast of botanical villains that are just as bad—if not worse—in certain environments. Here are ten under-the-radar invaders that deserve the same scrutiny.


1. Japanese Stiltgrass (Microstegium vimineum)

This delicate-looking grass may not raise eyebrows, but it chokes out native groundcover and seedlings across the Eastern U.S. It’s nearly impossible to eradicate once established and alters the forest floor so dramatically that natural regeneration all but stops.


2. Chinese Privet (Ligustrum sinense)

Common in Southern understories, Chinese privet forms dense thickets that shut out native shrubs and tree saplings. It’s still used in residential landscapes, despite being one of the biggest threats to southeastern riparian habitats.


3. Japanese Honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica)

With its sweet scent and recognizable vines, this plant is nostalgic for many—but deadly to native ecosystems. It strangles small trees, smothers forest floors, and thrives along any disturbed edge.


4. Sericea Lespedeza (Lespedeza cuneata)

Once touted for erosion control and wildlife food plots, this legume now dominates pastures, rights-of-way, and prairies. It crowds out native wildflowers and creates a monoculture that’s virtually useless for most wildlife.


5. Autumn Olive (Elaeagnus umbellata)

This nitrogen-fixing shrub invades open fields and roadsides at breakneck speed. Birds love its berries and spread the seeds far and wide, making control an uphill battle.


6. Callery Pear (Pyrus calleryana)

You’ve probably seen these lining suburban streets in spring, bursting with white blossoms. What you don’t see are the wild thickets forming in meadows, woodland edges, and disturbed ground, displacing native species in record time.


7. Cogongrass (Imperata cylindrica)

Considered one of the world’s worst invasive plants, cogongrass spreads with underground rhizomes and burns hot enough to kill mature trees. It’s an absolute menace in the Southeast—and one many still don’t recognize by name.


8. English Ivy (Hedera helix)

It’s in countless landscaping beds, but ivy doesn’t stop at the garden. Once it escapes, it climbs and strangles trees, smothers wildflowers, and creates a carpet that makes native regrowth nearly impossible.


9. Sweet Autumn Clematis (Clematis terniflora)

This vigorous vine forms thick blankets in sunny areas, completely overtaking native vegetation. Its showy white flowers disguise just how disruptive it can be to natural plant communities.


10. Multiflora Rose (Rosa multiflora)

Another well-meaning introduction gone rogue, this thorny shrub now dominates pasture edges, forming dense, nearly impenetrable thickets. Originally promoted for erosion control and “living fences,” it’s now a major problem for land managers and graziers alike.


Why the Disparity in Attention?

So why does Tree of Heaven get all the publicity while these other species continue to spread quietly? Some of it boils down to visibility: it’s easier to rally attention around a tall, dramatic tree than a creeping groundcover. And the connection with the spotted lanternfly gave Ailanthus a ready-made villainous backstory.

But in terms of ecological impact, land-use disruption, and management cost, these other species are just as threatening—some arguably more so. Many of them were even promoted by government programs decades ago, so public perception hasn’t caught up with current ecological reality.


What Can Be Done?

Landowners, golf course superintendents, farmers, and conservationists all have a role to play in changing that narrative. Here’s how:

  • Promote awareness of lesser-known invasive species in your community or organization.
  • Stop planting problem species, no matter how attractive they may seem.
  • Adopt integrated control plans, especially for vines and grasses that don’t respond to one-time treatments.
  • Push for updated plant sale regulations, especially for species still being sold at nurseries.

Tree of Heaven deserves the bad press—but let’s not ignore the rest of the invasive rogues quietly reshaping our landscapes. As anyone who's battled a 3-acre patch of privet or waded through a wall of multiflora rose can tell you, these plants are no less destructive. They’ve just flown under the radar for too long.