Have you ever been extremely bored, whined about it, and then heard your parent say, “Why don’t you go and watch the grass grow,” or “Sit there and watch the kettle boil,” or how about, “Go fly a kite!”
You see, there was a time, long ago, when our entertainment choices were, for lack of a better word, limited. But were they really?
Imagine a life pre-Internet. I know, I know. That’s impossible, right? Now try going a little further back: pre-computers (cell phones, Facebook, hand-held gaming devices, Netflix, etc…). EEEKKKK!
I’m not talking about the dinosaur era or the caveman age. I’m talking about the seventies and eighties. So vintage!
And while you’ve likely heard this a thousand times: “When I was younger____” (fill in the blanks with some horror story of how your parents walked up hill in a snow storm to and from school every day, or how they had the meanest Principal ever who actually used his belt to discipline wayward students), I’m going to say it once more, here and now, today.
When I was your age I took my mother’s sage advice (recommendation, suggestion, insistence, punishment?) and went outside to watch the grass grow, many times.
But besides the seasonal appearance of that infamous green carpet, upon which one could stretch-out and contemplate the whole of time and space, there was also an innocent kind of freedom to explore the nearby forests, ponds, open meadows; to build tree forts, visit playgrounds with rides like the barf machine (I won’t go into details), or grab a towel and ride your bike to public pools with names like Poplar Park or Birdseye.
This was back in a day when we’d use that old-fashioned form of social media where followers (neighbours) would send instant messages (knock on someone’s door), or tweet (yell out across the yard), to play offline (outdoors) for hours on end.
The games [of kingdoms and thrones] were plenty, and despite the odd bruise, scuffle, or tearful return at sundown because So-and-so cheated at hide and seek, or, such-and-such made you fall and cut your knee, it all gave me a very profound sense of curiosity, and creativity.
To say something (like a business or an idea) is grass roots nowadays means something pretty specific: it means ‘new, from the ground up, the most basic level of an organization’.
And while I’ve learned that grass grows slower than a snail’s pace when you’re actually laying there watching it, it never stops growing.
Welcome, to Winter Wind Press: a grass roots, micro-publishing company that aims to produce quality fiction books for young adults (YA) and teens, which are as unique as the people who write them.
Thanks for visiting. I’m off to fly a kite.