I have no hostility to nature,
but a child’s love to it.
I expand and live in
the warm day like corn and melons.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson
August is upon us now with its usual dry nastiness and so the “parcels of corn” have indeed become “brown and sere.” Though their yield was harvested some time ago and the plants left to die under the blistering summer sun, I think their golden-brown, curled flag-leaves create a kind of unique beauty. And now that the farmers have begun the process of removing the dry, dead remains, even the barren, stub-filled fields have an intriguing eye-appeal. Although both my parents were raised on farms in farming communities, I had my very first experience with growing a crop like corn a few summers ago when our daughter and her husband decided to sow some corn in their inner city garden. Once the seedlings got going, it seemed like almost every day for a while that the stalks grew taller and taller. Then as the tassels appeared, the stalks began to buzz with the constant hum of more honey bees than I’ve ever seen in a suburban garden. Later on when the pale yellow silks started emerging, our excitement heightened again as the bees buzzed on harvesting the huge amounts of yellowish pollen falling from the floppy tassels. At that point I became so fascinated by the goings on that I went to the internet and was truly dumfounded to read that each piece of pollen that lands on a silk produces only one of the two to four hundred kernels that typically appear on a single ear of corn. How amazing is that! When it was all said and done, not only was their small crop of corn the tastiest any of us had ever eaten, but it also aroused in us and our offspring a sense of respect for the generations of farmers within our family lineage as well as for the ancient civilizations whose cultures had had a marked and ongoing influence on the global landscape. But more than anything, we marveled, as we always do, at the wonders of Creation and its Maker.
May the people praise you, O God; may all the people praise you. Then the land will yield its harvest, and God, our God will bless us. ~Psalm 67:5-7 ✝
Thank you, Jesus, that you save, you heal, you restore, and you reveal Your Father’s heart to us! You have captured me with grace and I’m caught in Your infinite embrace! Like Saint Hildegard Lord, may I too be a feather on your holy breath and spread, like seeds, the gospel abroad.
Natalie, over the last 24 hours the UK has been on the receiving end of the remnants of what was Hurricane Bertha. Some areas have been flooded and the entire country has had a good soaking. Temperatures have dropped down into the low 60s. A little different to the August you describe in Texas! But I did get an excellent crop of red currants, and picked the last just a few days ago. It is such a pleasure to taste home grown fruit, so I fully understand how blessed you were by the taste of the homegrown corn.
This morning at church the sermon was based on Jeremiah 17:5-10 and the necessity for deep roots reaching into the Living Water – essential in times of drought. Blessings, David.
I’m so glad that your crop of currants wasn’t spoiled by all the rain. Yes, indeed, we have to dig deep into the Living Water in times of drought. Blessings, Natalie 🙂
Hi Natalie. ..I just loved this post…I so love to learn and you just taught me something about one of my favorite vegetables. I’ve been passing a growing corn field lately, and have had the urge to stop and see it. Now I will!! Much love and blessings to you!! ❤
Thanks, Lorrie. I’m glad you enjoyed the post. Oh do stop and get a good look at the cornfield. I wish I’d taken pictures while our corn was going through its delightful stages, but I think I was just so fascinated by the process that all I could do was stand and watch and be awed. I pray that you have a great week, Lorrie. Hugs and blessings, Natalie 🙂
I will make sure I take my phone and snap some photos too…will get there this week 🙂 Thanks Natalie ❤
I love the tipped hat to the harvest of corn—sadly our crop this year simply did not make–last year I processed 150 ears—0 this year—funny how that is. And how eloquently beautiful you describe a stalk and it’s various nuances—from browning tassels, draped in pollen, to the buzz of the helpful bees—maybe next year will be our year 🙂
Our daughter’s crop didn’t do well this year either, and I so wanted to watch all the fun doin’s again. Maybe next year with be better for you and her. I pray it be so. I’m glad you enjoyed my description; I was fascinated by the process from the start to the finish. Hugs, Natalie 🙂