Cornstalks have always been a part of my scenery.
There was a cornfield behind my house growing up.
There was a cornfield across from my grandparents' house.
The house that is now my house.
Corn is everywhere.
And, when I moved to the big city to the north after college, I missed the corn.
The watching and waiting and the color.
The initial planting by the farmers.
The waiting and waiting and please, go away monsoon.
Don't you know corn needs rain AND sun?
And then the sprouts come up.
And you're like "it's corn!"
Every year we exclaim "it's corn!" Like we've never seen it before.
The deer come out to crunch on the fresh greenery.
And it gets taller.
And it's "knee high by the 4th of July."
Or, as the case is this season, it's "6 feet high by the 4th of July."
And it seems to get super tall overnight.
One moment it's green and newborn.
The next thing you know, you can't see around the stop sign at the end of the road.
So, you do the corn creep.
Creepin' up to see if a car or pickup truck are pulling around the bend.
It will be gone soon.
That's when you realize you've entered another season.
The smell of harvest.
The dried cornstalks floating through the yard as the combine does it's work across the street.
Bringing the corn down.
To pay the farmer.
And we all say thank you.
For the colors and smells and adventure that corn fields bring.
Thank you to the corn.