All Things Wise and Wonderful

I wish I had access to time lapse photography. Today the heat index locally was 95-100 degrees. We had several inches of rain yesterday. I'm guessing that the corn (and tomatoes and zucchini and weeds) are growing at a near perceptible rate. Or, as we used to say, You could hear the corn grow. Here is a photo of my uncle's tall sweet corn:

I've been reflecting on the evils of corn this year (on my other blog) but I think I am beginning to crave it. All my deprivation talk has driven me to obsess a little. My aunt mentioned to me that in their patch there are two ears of sweet corn on every stalk--enough to share, most likely. Freshly picked organic yellow corn with sweet cream butter....would it be as good as I remember? I checked out the development of the ear doubles with my camera:

At a garage sale last week I wasted a dollar (what was I thinking?) on this hokey (corny?) Avon butter dish that accommodates a stick of butter and some corn holders:

Bees were busy helping to pollinate the sweet corn as the tassels were dropping pollen on the silk. It will be a few weeks before this corn is ready:

The main crop that we hoped was successful on the farm where I grew up was (field) corn. The hay could be harvested a second or even a third time with enough rain, but the corn had one chance, come hail or high wind or drought. It was our yellow gold, our bread and butter.

I worked hard for a few days every August to help my mother "put up" the (sweet) corn. I had to help pick, shuck, boil and plunge it into a cold water bath--literally the family bath tub! I think my mother always cut the kernels off the cob--in long strips, drawing the knife towards her, the blunt end of the ear secured by her mid-section. All I remember is freezing the corn--packing it into plastic bags--no ziplocks. It was a hot and messy process, with gluey corn residue everywhere. Flies were drawn in droves to the shucks and scalped corn ears that accumulated just outside the kitchen door.

So as you can imagine, my relationship to corn is somewhat complex! To deny the signifigance of corn in my life is to reject a part of my youth.The fresh local corn is still under development, so I can reflect a little longer on whether I should indulge in this year's harvest--what would be wise and what would be wonderful?

I can't imagine corn without a plate of sliced red tomatoes. This is the first tomato picked in my aunt's garden--small and almost fully ripe. More are coming!