I knew four guys in my old neighborhood who used to play EVERY Saturday no matter what. The course they played stayed open all year round even when there was snow on the ground. I asked him whether he used an orange ball when he played in the snow, and he told me that when the snow was deep enough, it didn't matter. He said an orange ball doesn't help much which it goes 6 inches deep into the snow. They would just look for the little hole where the ball went in and then dig around until they found it. Since not many other people were crazy enough to play under these conditions there weren't too many footprints in the snow, so they almost always found their balls.
Anyway, these guys went out one Saturday in the rain and were playing their normal round with some pretty heavy wagering, I might add. But on the third tee, the wet driver slipped in my friend Harry's hand and he hit a shot off the toe of the driver and it hit my other neighbor George in the head, killing him on the spot. I was over at Harry's house borrowing a post-hole digger from his wife when he came home. I can still here him tell about what happened as if it were yesterday.
His wife asked him how the day went and he said: " It was terrible, all day long it was, hit the ball, drag George, hit the ball, drag George."