​Two weeks ago, we experienced a drought in Wisconsin. It’s pretty much gone now.
 
We had, over an eight-day period, about three-and-a-half inches of rain. That was enough to saturate the ground, and get the corn and soybeans growing at the normal pace. All vegetation greened up.
 
What fascinates me though was the weather people discussing the crisis of our drought situation, how tenuous it was. Yeah, things were dry, but it isn’t like we live in Arizona or California.
 
Drought in Wisconsin can’t compare to the southwestern U.S. states. Sure, we get bad summers, but it’s nothing like two or three bad years in Texas or five straight bad years in California.
 
The golf courses hardened up before our recent rain. We complained about that. The club hitting the turf was like ricocheting off concrete. You could feel the contact through your wrists, up to your elbows and into your shoulders and back.

The good thing was that the ball rolled forever. Suddenly, instead of a good drive going 240 yards, we were hitting it 275 yards. It felt like being 40 years old again.
 
But we knew it wouldn’t last because Wisconsin will get rain. Now the grass is lush green again. You can’t count on the roll. You have to carry your shots to the green. It’s an entirely different game and you have to think things through in terms of where you want to land the ball (not that we can make the ball go where we want).
 
The corn was dry before our “drought” (as the weather pundits put it). Growth was slow. Some stalks yellowed. You could see that the dirt was powdery.
 
Now, the cliché of “knee high by the fourth of July” will once again come true. In fact, it seems any time the weather person glooms and dooms about the ability of corn to grow at the expected pace (whether it’s some bug, blight or lack of rain constraining it from sprouting more quickly), the bad thing stops, the good thing happens and we have corn way over knee high by the fourth of July.
 
This recent rain saturation occurred in stages. Half an inch one night. Then nothing for a few nights. Then a quarter of an inch. Then, one night I’m driving home and I see gravel washed across the road near our house. I go, “WHOAH,” because I had been out, and where I was there hadn’t been but a spattering of raindrops.
 
When I got home, I asked my wife if it had rained. “Yes, a deluge.”
 
“A short one?”
 
“No, it went on for a long time.”

It must have, because our rain gauge registered two-and-a-half inches when I went out to check. All told, we got over four inches in about eight days.
 
The needed rain doesn’t make things perfect. More is forecast for this week. The crops will make it. The grass will grow and we’ll need to pull the mowers back out to make our yards look nice.
 
Our “drought” may not be over. But in the interim we have lush vegetation, lots of greenery and the air smells nice. And, your approach shots on the golf course, now hold the green. There’s a lot to be said for each of those things.

​ 
What would you endorse? If you were a pro athlete, for example, what product or service do you believe in so strongly that you would go on television and speak out in support of it? What hat would you be willing to wear with the company’s logo on it?
 
I’ve puzzled over this question for years, particularly watching professional golfers with all the logos on their shirt’s shoulders and chest, as well as their hats. It sometimes seems they have more advertising on their clothing than they have clubs in their bag.
 
Wearing the name of a product or company that you honestly and fully believe in would be difficult, it seems to me. Personally, I would have to have total buy-in. I’d use the product. I’d love it. I would speak out in support of it because I believe in it.

And, I haven’t had that many experiences over the years where something jumps out at me, “This is spectacular. I’m going to recommend it to all my friends.”
 
Two examples though, where I’ve found myself touting something heavily, included a Toyota Prius and the chewing gum “5.”  We were handed down a Prius years ago, drove it diligently and got 48 MPG.
I LOVED the fact that we not only got that great gas mileage, but the car was reliable, smooth, had great leg room, and saved us money at the pump over and over. We switched to a smaller Prius after that, and one of our daughters now uses that one, so she can continue the legacy.
 
When it comes to “5” gum, I can’t get over how long the flavor lasts and the gum itself stays pliable. So much chewing gum loses flavor quickly that it tastes like you’re chewing newspaper print. “5” is not like that. It keeps its bounce and you can inhale the minty breeze well over an hour after popping it into your mouth.

Give me a golf cap with their logos. Sign me up for the golf shirt so I can proudly speak out in support of the Prius and “5.” When someone asks me about chewing gum, I’ll weigh in. If someone wants to know about how the hybrid Prius operates and what type of gas mileage it gets, I’m there to give the statistics and speak out in support.
 
I’m in no position to get an endorsement deal, so I’ll never receive those goodies. Yet, there is a sense of satisfaction when I talk about either of the two products with my friends or even someone I’ve just met. Unequivocally, I endorse them.
 
Sometimes you can even help others. Years ago, a friend recommended Acidophilus – a probiotic capsule – to me for my heartburn. Quite frankly, taking it has been a life-changing event, helping my digestion so thoroughly and immensely that I recommend it frequently to anyone who has stomach pain-related issues.
 
Invariably, they get back to me with how much better they feel taking it. I could go on and on with specific examples. What I really want to know though, is when the company is going to get back to me with a hat and shirt so I can wear them proudly as a conversation starter.

​If you are a hiker or dog walker, you can likely relate to the following: killing cobwebs. Those dastardly, sticky, stringy, fine, wispy, cottony slivers that stick on your face, hair, arms, legs and any place else they find a resting spot.

It is no wonder that Spider Man has as one of his weapons the ability to shoot spider webs to capture criminals. Wrap them up in the stuff, build giant webs so they become ensnared, use it to tie their arms or legs together.
 
Walking or hiking though, the webs are a nuisance, and not about to debilitate your movements. Unless you account for shaking your arms and hands hysterically to try and get them out of your darn face right after you’ve walked through one and become entangled.
 
Recently, my wife and I were on our morning dog walk through the woods. It’s that time of year when the webs come out. Glistening in the early morning sun. But more often than not, seemingly invisible.
 
You walk. Then say, “Dammit,” and start wiping one off your face.
 
During the walk, I typically go first, as I am taller and can maul out anything in our path, clearing the way for her. She appreciates that, being the shorter of us two. If she leads, my face still gets hammered with regularity as she’s not tall enough to blast through the higher traps the spiders set.
 
On this day, which began nicely, and not thinking about spider webs, we hit a few early on, so I decided to keep count. By the end of the trek, I’d cleared the path of 29 cobwebs.
 
It makes you wonder about the industriousness of spiders. How quickly can they remake their webs? Does it take all night? Do they curse humans for destroying their weapon?
 
Thinking of those things made me remember “Charlotte’s Web,” that childhood classic novel, where the main character, a female spider named Charlotte, spoke with a pig on the wisdom of life. I couldn’t remember though if she was upset with humans for wiping out her territory. No answers there.
 
After eliminating 29 webs on the way out, I felt there couldn’t be any webs we’d missed as we headed back, but I was wrong. Somehow you can walk down a wooded path and miss a few, because a couple of times on the way back, I got tattooed with the sticky stuff again.
 
Thought it’s not a big thing, I did joke with my wife, “Isn’t it wonderful the things we do for our spouses,” as I cleared the way. She was dutifully appreciative for the effort I put into the task at hand.
 
It’s the little things that keep marriages fun and funny. She laughed. We both recognized the humor of the situation – a shared story.
 
For those of you with dogs, keep walking them. Keep exploring. And may you have a guide taller than yourself to serve as the lead on your hike to hack through the cobwebs waiting you on fine mornings.

​Do you follow the weather report? Do you watch it on TV, or check it out on your phone or go online? How often do you check? Is the report often accurate or does it let you down time and again?
 
I can’t find someone who doesn’t mock today’s weather reports. No matter where you go to find out what’s happening tomorrow or the rest of the week, whoever does the analyzing and reporting is mostly inaccurate.

Recently, I had a conversation with a friend on a side topic related to weather predicting. It’s the third time I’ve raised the issue with a friend about how the predictions for the next day or two evolves and becomes more and more distant in the future regarding rain or snow.  For example, let’s say the weather person says it’s going to rain tomorrow. They give you a 63 percent chance for that to happen starting around 11 a.m. tomorrow.

Okay, got it. Maybe I need to change my plans.

That report came out at 5 p.m. on a Monday, with the prediction for precipitation Tuesday morning. Before you go to bed that night, you check online for the hour-to-hour prediction on the weather web site, and find that the percentage for rain the next day is down to 54 and the rain won’t start until 1 p.m.
 
You go to bed thinking you might still want to play golf mid-morning. Or take a bike ride. Or whatever. You’re thinking though that the rain is still going to hammer you by mid-day Tuesday something.
 
You wake up Tuesday still thinking you might (or should) accomplish something outdoors. Your plans shouldn’t be banished, but you have a slight concern about the rain.
 
You go down to your desktop computer and pull up the weather site once again and check the hourlies.  Of course, you now find that precipitation prediction is now down to 38 percent and it starts at 3 p.m. In addition, rather than the rate of rain rising as it had in the previous day’s posting, the hours of 4-6 p.m. having descending levels of 31 percent, 28 percent and 17 percent.

When you think of these numbers and calibrate them in your brain, what comes out? That it’s not going to f….cking rain all day. They give those numbers to CYA. “Hey, we gave you a possible percentage that it COULD rain,” would be the response from the on-air weather person if you ever had the opportunity to ply them with a cocktail and get to ask why they’re wrong so often.
 
This syndrome of bad weather predictions moving farther and farther off into the future until they disappear and no precipitation occurs seems to have reached epidemic proportions. Check it out in your part of the country the next time you’re looking a few days ahead at rain or snow. Test the theory and see if it holds.

Based on my conversations with these three friends, we all have seen a remarkable consistency to the growing displacement of storm clouds. Something’s going to come down. We don’t know when, and likely it’s going to be later than when the original prognosticators say it will. Go golfing. Who cares if you get wet?