It's a prosaic tale for austere times. Golf courses in Yorkshire, England, get a stay of execution, it's a bitter day in the accompanying photograph and the guy flailing away on those ever-grim winter tees will never be mistaken for Dustin Johnson.
And yet I love that photograph. A downhill drive, an inviting fairway in the distance and a nagging tree to negotiate. I know not everyone rates trees as hazards but while the one in the picture stays healthy, I can imagine it ensuring that this hole never plays the same way twice and that you never tee off here on autopilot. What else do you need?
Much as I've grown jaded with the word 'journey', lavished as it so often is on any Tom, Dick and Harry embarking on his second week in a reality TV show, it is right at home here. Nice as the trappings of palm trees, lapping waves and the scent of jasmine in the air would be, the journey remains the thing in golf: a beckoning fairway laced with just enough uncertainty around the edges to engage the mind.
So it's January in northern England. So what?
Pic of the Day - Monterey, California