Weirdly Welcome

The twisted live oak. The cypress pine, who presents her branches like a waitress carrying an oversized tray. The electric fall maple, whose red and orange leaves seem to change in real time.

I’ve been developing brands for nearly three decades and have spent countless hours on California ranches, looking for “the one.” When we find the perfect tree, it is magical. Never exactly symmetrical. Exuding character. (And, hopefully, clear of distracting backgrounds.) Today, with AI and Photoshop, anyone can generate the perfect tree without ever leaving their desk. It’s a shame. I hope the trees in our future aren’t just the perfect ones.

Because the flawed trees sculpted by Mother Nature can have even more of an impact—especially on the golf course. Increasingly, I’m drawn to the weird ones. The ones strangely bent. The dead ones. On a trip to Adare Manor in Ireland, I photographed a cedar of Lebanon dating back to 1645. I’m still devastated that an unrelenting rain kept me from meeting the Ghost Tree at Bandon’s Old Macdonald in person. Another reason to get back soon.

Most everyone these days takes photos to capture their memories on the course. My library is full of odd timber. They’re not pretty. They don’t obey the golden ratio. Many are long dead. Clients would reject them outright as logos.

But I identify with them, I think, because they resemble my game. As much as I want my swing to look as mighty as Rory’s, as effortless as Freddie’s or as perfect as Nelly’s, it never will. I’m too old, too stiff, too busy to camp out on a range.

I’ve been fortunate to play top golf courses around the world, with immaculate cuts of grass, precisely manicured greens and hundreds of perfect trees. I’ve found that as I step to these first tees, I’m worried that my swing will somehow detract from the beauty of the scene. 

Then I’ll come around a bend or over a hill, see a strange tree and feel immediate relief. Instinctively, I’ll grab my phone and snap a quick picture—sometimes even on courses where it’s not allowed. They are wabi-sabi sentries, reminding me that I am welcome on this course and in this game.

Brett Posten has been a Broken Tee Society member since 2023.