I Watched Grass Grow and Honestly, It Changed Me

Spoiler: Not a lot happened, but also… everything happened.

After the emotional rollercoaster that was watching paint dry (RIP glossy patch of wall, you were a real one), I found myself craving something deeper. Something even slower. Something so monumentally uneventful that it would bring me to the edge of enlightenment or total insanity.

So I watched grass grow.

Yes. On purpose. With intent. I even prepared: chair, water bottle, bug spray, and a wildly misplaced sense of optimism. My neighbor asked what I was doing and I told him, “I’m observing the raw power of nature.” He nodded slowly and backed away like I was about to invite him to a drum circle.

Day 1: The Freshly Mowed Abyss
I had just mowed the lawn, so I knew I’d be starting from ground zero. Literally. Nothing but tiny green stubs and dirt vibes. But there was promise. Potential. I sat outside for two hours, squinting at blades of grass like they owed me money.

Day 2: Still Flat, Still Committed
No visible progress. I started naming the individual blades. “Blade 27” looked like it might be stretching. Probably just me hallucinating from boredom and sun exposure. A bee flew by and I screamed louder than I’d like to admit.

Day 3: Growth? Or Gaslighting?
Something was happening. Maybe. Could be. I took before-and-after photos, zoomed in 300%, and compared them like a botanist-slash-CIA agent. The difference was minimal, but I gasped like I just found Bigfoot. Victory tastes like chlorophyll.

Day 4: Existential Dandelions
A dandelion showed up, uninvited. A rebel. A villain in the lawn narrative. I watched it sway defiantly in the wind like it knew it wasn’t supposed to be there but didn’t care. I respected it. It made me question rules, conformity, and whether I should start a punk band called “Photosynthetic Anarchy.”

Day 5: I Am the Lawn Now
By this point, I was part of the yard. Birds no longer feared me. Squirrels were asking for rent. I had achieved full suburban druid status. The grass had grown maybe a quarter inch — just enough to say, “Hey, I’m trying,” which is honestly a mood.

Day 6: A Single Blade Bends Toward the Sun
It was beautiful. Poetic. A solitary blade of grass arched just slightly, catching the light like a slow-motion nature documentary. I cried. Don’t ask me why. Maybe it was the pollen. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t blinked in 45 minutes. But I felt seen.

Final Thoughts:

• Grass grows slowly, but so do you.
• Patience is a muscle, and watching grass grow is leg day for your soul.
• If you ever want to feel grounded (pun fully intended), go stare at your lawn for a while. Bonus points if people start worrying about you.

Next up: I’m considering watching bread rise. Or maybe just watching my life pass me by. Either way, bring snacks.