Corn needs nitrogen rich soil with a neutral pH to grow. Corn is wind pollinated and does best planted in blocks rather than in rows (despite traditional methods). Corn needs a fair amount of water and does best when watered by natural, nitrogen-rich, rain.

The corn we planted this year (for the first time mind you) was planted in poorly composted and fed soil; not to mention tight, crisp, clay soil. It was planted in long rows; two varieties – North Carolina sweet and common field corn. Our corn received only 9 total days of rain since planted on April 10 and 11. The rest of the water came from sprinklers set for an hour every 3 days.

The result was less than we had hoped for.

Today I realized that several of our stalks were completely ready to be stripped; tassles were browning and cobs were rounded rather than pointed. The only problem was many of the cobs were a bit soft and showed signs of Earworms and Armyworms. I had mixed reactions for sure. I was pleased that we had, in fact, grown corn – tall stalks even. But I was not pleased that so much of our corn was useless. It was bittersweet.

After about 35 minutes or so of picking I brought the basket of husks up to Pan and presented her with the cobs of our labor; full of pride, full of appreciation, and somewhat full of apologies. I had promised her earlier in the season that this year we wouldn’t have to supplement our freezer with purchased corn from other local farmers. I told her we would have our own corn!

Without an adverse word she shucked them, cleaned them, and prepared them for dinner. As I sat down to eat I was presented – lovingly, mind you – with some of the ugliest corn I had ever laid my eyes on. Kernels were missing. Kernels were small. Kernels were swollen. And I haven’t even begun to talk about the taste ... or should I say lack thereof. If it weren’t for butter my saying grace would have sounded as such: “Lord, thank you for allowing us to grow this corn and for it filling an empty spot in our stomachs. But Lord, could you place upon it a miracle; one that involves taste ... please? Amen.”

So what I have I learned from all this? I have learned that field corn is best reserved for livestock and not cross-pollination experiments. I have learned that anyone can plant a seed but only a farmer with heart can patiently prepare the soil to cultivate a solid result. And I learned that my wife loves me and my Goonie corn!

     I ask not for a larger garden, but for finer seeds. – Russell H. Conwell

Many have asked where we have been; Pan and I. We haven’t gone far really. We’ve been enveloped in life as it has happened all around us. Since my last post I have put a few other things up but nothing of dire consequence and nothing more than therapeutic blog posts really. June was a busy a month bringing about another birthday for myself, the passing of my dear Granny Dot, the visitations of all my siblings and their families, mornings in the fields and evenings in the gardens, days spent in the kitchen trying to make sense of it all, and quiet times investing in my wife and our relationship. It has been good and it has been bad, all at once. But it has been life.

I have become more aware with each passing day what I value and what I find trivial; what I want and what I could do without. I have latched on to relationships I had been ignoring and let go of the death grip I had on some toxic people that were lingering for sheer nostalgia sake. And I came across a quote that summed my entire heart up.

Russell Conwell was the son of Yankee, Massachusetts, farmers. He fought for the Union Army in the Civil War. He attended Yale University. He was a Baptist Minister and a practicing attorney. And most importantly he was the founder of what is now Temple University. As one can imagine he was a fantastic orator having penned several memorable lectures and sermons and authoring even more well known quotes. But perhaps none so beautiful as the one above.

In my life I have made mistakes, and I have been redeemed. I have been greedy, and I have been broke. I have held thousands of dollars, and I have begged for change. But now I sit comfortably at a place I am proud of. I am wealthy though I have no more money than I did year ago. I have dreams, but I am grounded in reality. In essence, I would love a bigger garden. But I am perfectly happy with just having finer seeds.

My grandmother? An heirloom seed indeed. She produced blooms and flowers unparalleled in my book. My wife? An organic gem cracking open with purity and wholesomeness. My parents – hearty and strong – are seeds that have taken time to germinate but have become all the more rewarding because of it. And me? Well, I cringe to say it but do so with honesty; a GM seed. Not born into this whole gardening scene and certainly not raised with dirt under my nails but capable of adapting to the land and the surrounding and ultimately bringing about a crop and a sustenance, nonetheless.

So where have we been? Well, we’ve been right here the whole time.