Levee turf
Heavy rice dirt hides a walking sleeve until the hosel clicks.
Levee lies are rarely clean. A ferrule that looked seated on a mat will click the first time the dirt grabs the hosel.
We do not own a levee. We own a dirt box and a memory of how Jonesboro actually sits: winter rye that stays slow, summer bermuda that gets glassy after a sprinkler cycle, Cache River lies that hold silt in the hosel.
If your log says you live in levee dirt, the reset call gets stricter. A walking seven is a loose nipple waiting for the next humid week. We would rather reset epoxy in June than hear about it in August.