I harvested my corn this weekend. Yes, it's late in the season, and no, I can never seem to time it right to actually eat anything that I grow. I grow it mostly for the corn stalks for my wife to decorate with and the kernels to make corn meal with - and, I suppose, the ever present hope that this year, I'll get some...
It was one of the mornings where you can tell that autumn is here: the air is a little crisp, the sunlight has that slight haze that indicates that the fall is coming hard. I moved through, pulling the ears off the the stalks, putting them to the side, then cuttin off the corn at the roots, piling the larger stalks to one side for shocking, the smaller ones to the left for eventual composting. I could hear the voices of my family coming out from the open windows as I worked away in the quiet morning air.
There is something about harvesting that satisfies my soul in a way that I cannot fully or rationally explain. Maybe its the thought that I had a (small) hand in coaxing the Nature that God created, perhaps it's the feeling of knowing I can grow something that is useful, perhaps it is a harkening back to the First Garden before the Fall. I cannot explain it, but only enjoy it - as is true of all truly good pleasures.
The corn now hangs in my garage drying, the cornstalks are in the garden (probably knocked over by the wind - again!) drying as well, another autumn season well begun.
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