Long before 草 existed, oracle-bone scribes drew a single sprouting blade as 屮 — a stem with new leaves fanning open. Grass never grows as just one blade, so the scribes doubled the sprout side by side to write "grass" itself: 艸. Centuries later that doubled sprout was flattened into the 艹 you see capping so many plant characters today, set above 早 (zǎo, "early") purely for its sound — giving today's 草.
A piece of culture
Grass script: calligraphy at a gallop When Chinese calligraphers write fast, joining strokes into sweeping loops, the style is called 草书 (cǎoshū) — "grass script." Some say it earned the name because speed-written characters blur together like wind-bent grass; others say early quick drafts were dismissively called "grass," the way English speakers say "rough draft." Either way, cursive grass-script letters from masters like Wang Xizhi (4th century) are still prized as some of the wildest, most personal art the writing system has ever produced.
Use it in a real word
草鱼
cǎoyú · cou2 jyu4
grass carp — a freshwater fish that grazes on water plants; you already know 鱼