Corn

Tonight's dinner: a fantastic sandwich made from an heirloom tomato and a funky breed of cucumber I'd never heard of before (it grows into a U shape)-- both from Grindstone Farm-- on locally grown/milled pumpernickel, with a bit of Vegenaise. Absolutely fantastic.

Also, some salad greens with locally grown multi-colored grape tomatoes, some local(ish) baked tofu, flax seeds, and vegan Thousand Island dressing. With a dab of guacamole. Really, really good.

And, best of all, corn on the cob.

I have to thank my busy-tailed nemesis. Had he not taunted me with that corn cob last night, I wouldn't have gone out to the garden and realized that quite a bit of corn was ready to be picked.

So tonight, with dinner, four ears of absolutely amazing corn. The best I've ever, ever had.

Four ears, but four ears that sort of add up to one ear. For some reason, all of my corn is about as thick as a typical ear of corn, but really, really short. The longer ear I picked was maybe five inches. The shortest was maybe two and a half.

But man, was it damn good.

Sweet.

But more than sweet.

When I tasted that corn, I could sort of taste everything that went into it. Could sort of see it all.

Could see Sam in his fleece, his hat and his work gloves, pushing his little wheelbarrow, helping me clear out space to lay the garden beds.

I could see and smell the rain that day a couple of months later when we stood under an umbrella, me punching holes in the soil with my finger, Sam dropping two kernels into each hole, both of us getting soaked.

I could see those first shoots coming up, and remember thinking that there was no way I was actually going to get any edible corn out of this garden. Then, not so long ago, those first few signs of good stuff coming, the silk peeking out here and there.

This was good, good corn. Delicious.

And there's more out there waiting for me.