Answer:
The more holes you cover the lower it goes.
Autumn leaves and bad bowlers wreak havoc on this
When young, I am sweet in the sun. When middle-aged, I make you gay. When old, I am valued more than ever.
Up on high I wave away but not a word can I say.
Always old, sometimes new. Never sad, sometimes blue. Never empty, sometimes full. Never pushes, always pulls.
The more of me you take, the more I appear behind you. What am I?