Oh, the poetry that is written in a crisp ear of Silver Queen corn.
Today I got up, started the laundry, milked Coco, drank my coffee and enjoyed the morning's readings. Got the kids moving then went out to tend the garden.
The morning wasn't cold like the weekend, but drizzly and cool. Soft and gray. Perfect for garden weeding.
I felt like the garden was mildly reproaching, like a neglected lover. The last couple of weeks have been filled with livestock chores and the garden has been an afterthought, a quick run grab something for supper and pull a couple of weeds while running back to the kitchen.
I said my "I'm sorry's" and got down to business. Started with the green bean rows. Worked around the okra. Got Thomas to bring me some more hay for mulching. Deep mulch only works to prevent weeds if you make sure and pull the errant ones and smother the other ones. Tackled the tomato rows. Oh, my, goodness. We staked a few, didn't the rest. I think the tomatoes are aliens from another country, working to take over the country, unstaked garden by unstaked garden.
Pulled mounds and mounds of weeds around the corn. Threw down more mulch. Opened up one ear, wondering. Would tonight be the night? The night of the first corn?
Yeah, I know. We have eaten corn already this year. But it was market corn. Definitely better than supermarket corn. But I guess we are spoiled.
There is nothing, no, nothing, like corn picked from your own garden, shucked by little girls and dropped into boiling water right then and there. And of course smeared lightly with Coco's butter and sprinkled heavily with real salt.
Crispy. Crunchy. Juice squirting. Face smearing goodness. Packaged in lovely green wrappers, tucked here and there on dark green stalks of promise. What used to be a dried up kernel, tucked into dark soil by young persons hands, what managed to survive hungry goats and cow, flood and drought, sun and weeds, brought us a gourmet seasonal gift. No sugar could be more satisfying than the sweet of that Silver Queen.
I ate 4 ears. So did Rose. I think Patrick ate 5. It went well with a little side of green beans and venison and leftover mashed potatoes.
I didn't finish the work in the garden. But she is feeling a bit better about our relationship. And so am I.
Have I mentioned that working in the garden is one of my favorite things? Dirty and sore, I better grab a shower. Then I will dream of alien cherry tomato takeovers. And the Silver Queen.