Growing up, I was surrounded by wonderful storytellers. The kind of people who could recount family history and tell a story in a way that made you feel like you were walking through the day right beside them. Others had a way of creating such vivid pictures from their memories that you became completely captivated.
I like stories. I like history. I used to tell my kids were the “altars of stones”—those things set in place so we remember where we came from and the people who built the path before us.
One thing that has fascinated me about Honey Creek is the story behind it. From the designer’s vision, to looking through old scrapbooks and seeing Jim, Missy, Jeff, Patty, their children, and family working the dirt and shaping the hills into what Honey Creek became. The stories of hauling concrete in cart by cart to create cart paths through the terrain. The hill on 18 as it overlooked the valley where their children used to go sledding down. (Nerves of Steel that group) As I sit and over look the valley and wonder what it must feel like now for them—to drive the course with children who are grown and grandchildren now playing on beautifully maintained fairways, on land that was built with blood, sweat, and tears.
Stories of family-built golf courses becoming what they are today are why I have such a deep respect for this course. It’s why I appreciate the work our grounds crew pours into it every day, and why I feel so passionate about preserving not just the course, but its history.
Every policy put in place and every interaction—is driven by knowing their story.
I share the story of Honey Creek because when someone says, “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just grass,” maybe then they can see beyond the grass. Maybe they can see the heart of Honey Creek.
Because Honey Creek Golf Club was never just grass.
It was a dream, a family, hard work, and a legacy.
And stories like that deserve to last.
See you on the first tee,
Amber Woods-Prouty
Clubhouse & Operations Manager
