He's going to be standing there for a while, judging from the sheer amount, shucking and rinsing and shucking some more, preparing the ears of corn we picked from our garden this afternoon. This spring was a mild one, and we planted the garden a bit early to fend off the hot summer's ravages with high hopes that our hours of labor would pay off in the form of something good to eat. At the start of summer, we weren't terribly optimistic about our chances, especially after last summer's soaring temperatures and long, painful stretches without rain. But so far, we have been gifted with big, fluffy lettuces, bushels of turnip greens, a literal "sack of potatoes," vines filled with sugary watermelons, succulent cucumbers, and, last but not least, 31 ears of corn (plus several that we have already eaten and thus could not include in the count). It is with this corn that I now find my husband stationed at the kitchen sink, focused and driven, preparing the harvest for the freezer. Shuck, rinse, shuck, repeat. But now, the summer has found its appetite and is looking to claim whatever victims lie under its brutal rays. We are at least a month without significant rain, and temperatures have shattered their boundaries for the second summer in a row. Trees show signs of hanging it up for the season, yards are burned, and animals venture into flower beds seeking sustenance. And yet the garden has been good to us. I can only hope the rain gods will too.
He's going to be standing there for a while, judging from the sheer amount, shucking and rinsing and shucking some more, preparing the ears of corn we picked from our garden this afternoon. This spring was a mild one, and we planted the garden a bit early to fend off the hot summer's ravages with high hopes that our hours of labor would pay off in the form of something good to eat. At the start of summer, we weren't terribly optimistic about our chances, especially after last summer's soaring temperatures and long, painful stretches without rain. But so far, we have been gifted with big, fluffy lettuces, bushels of turnip greens, a literal "sack of potatoes," vines filled with sugary watermelons, succulent cucumbers, and, last but not least, 31 ears of corn (plus several that we have already eaten and thus could not include in the count). It is with this corn that I now find my husband stationed at the kitchen sink, focused and driven, preparing the harvest for the freezer. Shuck, rinse, shuck, repeat. But now, the summer has found its appetite and is looking to claim whatever victims lie under its brutal rays. We are at least a month without significant rain, and temperatures have shattered their boundaries for the second summer in a row. Trees show signs of hanging it up for the season, yards are burned, and animals venture into flower beds seeking sustenance. And yet the garden has been good to us. I can only hope the rain gods will too.
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