"Grass Routes" - an update
As mentioned in an earlier post (Grass Routes and Gratitude) - the wonderful Grant Books have pulled together 18 of my favourite essays on golf clubs and courses into a 208 page book, replete with gorgeous images from the likes of Jason Livy and those good people at Cookie Jar Golf, to name but two. The editing of this dream has taken several months, but it - “my first book” - has been several decades in the making, at least in my head.
So while I have felt like a child watching the clock on Christmas Eve of late, wondering what it will actually feel like in my hands, the wait has been part of the charm of the whole process. We’ve become used to instant deliveries and answers in our lives, but somehow having to remain patient tied in with what creating Grass Routes has meant to me. A slowing down, a deliberateness. A move in the direction of the tactile, and a more authentic path. Towards my own grassroots, and golf’s, too.
And then one day, a feeling akin to that first glimpse through the gates of Muirfield, or that moment when Hollinwell reveals itself as you drive out of Robin Hood’s own deep forest. I park across the road, and have to listen rather than look for traffic, for my eyes are fixed on the pallet blocking my driveway. 1,000 copies, and they look, feel, and rather amusingly smell fantastic.
Of all the senses, smell has always been somehow the dullest for me, and when my internet friend Shane Derby (of the Firm & Fast Podcast) recently posed me a challenge to describe the smell of grass after rain (here; please listen and subscribe!), I was truly Stymied. For I know what it means to me, that period when the air is still moist but the clouds have had their say. It means freshness, hope. Freedom. And I love to play in the rain, too - sometimes when even a sprinkling of common sense would preclude it (here) - but irrigation from the sky alters the entire environment in a way that no sprinkler ever will, and the world is forever changed when it stops. But exactly what this smells like, Shane? For once, I’m lost for words.
So this slab of my ponderings on golf arrives, and I send Shane a snap of it. He calls it “one sexy pallet”, and I work hard to get the boxes indoors before the next cloud breaks, and tear off the wrapping in a lustful fervour. And then the first copy - the one I bought myself, to test the payment mechanism and, well, because I can - is in my hands and I can only sit down, and think of all those places it took me, and what it all means to me. And the smell is exquisite; of fine, acid-free paper and fresh ink.
And I know that while Shane’s question will continue to haunt me as the days and weeks roll on, there is in this pile of books another aroma that means the same things to me. It will forever remind me to take the odd risk, on the links and in my life, and to look for freedom and adventure. To not be afraid to ask questions, and to feel okay with expressing myself. It’s one fine smell, this Grass Routes. Like grass after rain…
Thank you to those of you who have already pre-ordered copies of the book; if you enjoy it half as much as I have enjoyed writing and sniffing it, it will all have been worthwhile. The equally gorgeous, though surely less aromatic, slipcases (below) are due to arrive shortly, so orders will start to ship week commencing 7th August with luck. In the meantime, I am going camping in Wales, to further explore the smell of grass after (or perhaps only during) rain.
For those of you yet to commit, the book is available here. It is a limited edition, and a small portion of every sale will benefit The Golf Foundation, a charity that is changing the lives of young people using the power of golf. So you get to feel good about buying my little book, too. Win-win. Or Good-Good, perhaps.