Enraptured by these autumn golf days that have treated us to lengthy stretches of pure joy, it is easy to get so caught up in the pleasure of this season that you feel as if it belongs to golf and golf only.

But who knew that autumn cast its spell not only on us golfers but on a whole lot of literary folks. Speaking for many of us, the late Canadian author L.M. Montgomery (“Anne of Green Gables” was arguably her most popular book) once said, “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”

She left this world long ago, but Montgomery’s sentiments still connect with so many of us, especially those of us who savor the best agronomical conditions of the year. Grass is its plushest and most vibrant green and days tend to start crisp, turn warm, and morph into a gentle chill just as sun goes down.

OK, so the shift into early November hasn’t been as enchanting as anything October provided, and my suggestion is that the great Henry David Thoreau missed the mark when he wrote “the thinnest yellow light of November is more warming and exhilarating than any wine they tell of.”

My suspicion is, in the 1800s they didn’t have the sort of premium wines that grace our landscape in 2025. Thus, let us award Thoreau a mulligan for this misplay, thought-provoking as it remains. November may not have that “warming,” nor has it continued the October majesty, but still, there’s enough of a fervor right now to play the game that consumes us.

Blessed with recent travel that afforded plenty of time for reflection, the opportunity to play an abundance of golf from late September to late October still was serenading in my head. Thus was a Google search conducted, just to proceed down a rabbit’s hole and discover what others thought of autumn. Who knew it would extend such fun?

What popped out was what author and writing coach Victoria Erickson said about this most cherished of seasons: “If a year was tucked inside of a clock, then autumn would be the magic hour.” Cheers to that.

To discover that author Sarah Addison Allen wrote a novel entitled “First Frost” piqued my curiosity because those words roundly resonate with golfers, especially in these parts. Of particular note was a sentence in the book: “It looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon.”

Lovely imagery.

But what captivated me were the words attributed to the he or she forever listed as Unknown: “Autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go.”

The leaves that turn rustic and pulsating colors, then fall aimlessly and are helpless against rustling winds speak to the “letting things go” emotion. Check that box, but speaking selfishly, it’s always more comforting if a right-to-left wind transports said leaves to the port side of the fairway.

The whole notion of letting things go invites a flood of golf thoughts in this most melancholy of seasons. As engaging as autumn weather is, it prompts a sense of regret for we are staring at a calendar with fewer days remaining. Regrets then enter the mind; we know we didn’t make that golf trip we had planned; we had not played that round of golf with whomever as we had promised ourselves; we had not diligently practiced as we insisted we would; fun had been enjoyed, yes, but golf pleasures had also been denied ourselves.

Sigh.

Of course, one must always accentuate the positives. Like checking the box to that coveted visit to an out-of-the way gem (Truro Highlands for yours truly) that brings a rush of warmth. And for having seized those opportunities to connect with golf in ways that touch the soul – walking through a timeless golf museum (Congressional Country Club); writing stories about icons from yesteryear (the late Ken Venturi, so cherished that there is a society of admirers who meet annually to toast him) and from very much the here and now (Brendan Walsh retired from a storied career at The Country Club but will remain in the PGA professional business as an advocate and consultant to younger professionals).

As autumn temps drop and frost delays are the rule, not the exception, there is much more time to ponder those issues that sting and confound.

Like how is it that in the year 2025 we cannot find a proper way to extend opportunities to girls who want to play high school golf but unfortunately are at schools that don’t field a team? Yet at the same time, the pampered elite juniors who already have a multitude of avenues available to them for top-echelon competition now have the USGA offering them something called the U.S. National Development program.

Currently in the World Amateur Rankings, the Americans in the men’s side have the top three, seven of the top 10, and 14 of the top 20. It’s lost on me how we study those numbers and feel that it’s a priority to “develop” already superb players, but be tone deaf when it comes to a much bigger issue – how do we “develop” opportunities for kids to get into the game and give public golfers more options?

With fewer holes played as autumn morphs into winter and darkness falls at the ungodly hour of 4:30 p.m. my mind has more time to ponder challenges that lurk for golf.

We desperately need to take better care of our municipal golf courses. So, too, do our young golfers need more facilities that are practice areas, not barrooms.

As the PGA Tour enters a new era of smaller fields and tighter memberships, now is the time to resoundingly prove that the health of the game should be measured by its amateur and recreational base, not by spoiled tour professionals who smile too infrequently and appear to believe they really are worth this money.

Autumn is fading fast and so, too, the burst of colors that define it. But what we still have is the perfect time to savor all the joy that golf delivered this past year and to cherish the promise that the game will bring when a new season arrives.