Children of the Corn
Growing up on a farm, we had corn fields surrounding the house every other year. Farmers know you must switch your crops from year to year to help reduce soil erosion, increasing soil fertility and crop yield. Even though we would have ‘field’ corn surrounding the house on even years, and adjacent to the farm on odd years, there would always be a plentiful supply of sweet corn. My brothers, sister, me and the few neighboring children would play in the ‘field’ corn, being careful not to destroy the crop. The tall corn stalks lent themselves well for summer hide-n-seek, and kick-the-can games. Field corn is typically used for animal grain and of course, sweet corn is used for human consumption, right off the cob.
The sweet corn my Dad grew was the star of the farm, without fail, every year. People would come from near and far to pick up some of his famously sweet and delicious cobs. He would grow enough to share with family and friends; always planting straight from his heart. With his recent passing, it was one of his last wishes for my brother Jeff to continue the tradition.
With both my brothers farming a good portion of their lives, Jeff had no problem making sure the soil conditions and upcoming weather were just right. He had the perfect window of opportunity. It was important for me to be there when he kept the tradition going, so when I received the message, I dropped what I was doing and headed to the farm.
He had already done the prep of working the ground and preparing the soil. As we stood in the field, he bent over and picked up a rock that had made it’s way to the earth’s surface. If you’ve ever grown up on a farm, you’re familiar with the dreaded chore of rock picking. It was one of those times we hated as kids. We would have to walk alongside the tractor and wagon, in the uneven plowed field, picking up all good sized rocks in sight and tossing them on the wagon, so they wouldn’t cause damage to the equipment.
As soon as he picked up the rock, I spotted one near me, picked it up and we both laughed. For old time sake, we honored our Dad and combed the sweet corn patch for rocks. Of course, the scale of the project was much smaller then when we were kids and had acres upon acres to tackle. We ended up with a little rock pile of our own, along the edge of the field; he would have been proud.
As Jeff took his place on the John Deere 2510, my Dad’s favorite tractor, and now my brother’s, I could see the emotion in his eyes and the love for the tradition, my Dad, and their mutual love for farming. He proudly planted row after row, being careful to keep the rows neat and straight; something my Dad was known for. A few friends passing by the farm noticed and stopped to pay tribute; they knew how important planting the sweet corn was to my Dad.
Each week, we watch it grow, take a few pictures to show the progress and smile on what it means to us. My brother continues to weed, care for, and fertilize the crop. Come harvest time, the children of the corn will be grateful for long-standing traditions and will do our best to share it with the friends and family like years past. What traditions do you continue to honor?
xoxox…..Sheryl
PS….as the saying goes, the corn should be “knee high by the fourth of July”…and it was!