Harvest

Twenty minutes after curling out of the minivan, freshly home from our whirlwind Colorado trip, I was back in the saddle. Not the horse saddle, but the grain cart saddle, working with my dear hubby to get this corn (and all the other corn) into this grain bin (and all the other grain bins).

This corn is not like the sweet roasted ears you chomp through at an August cookout. This is "field corn". It stays in the husk and on the stalk just where it was planted, until the kernels are dried and hard. Then it fills up grain bins and elevators across the Midwest until someone needs it to make ethanol or corn syrup or cattle feed or Fritos.

I would write more, but I hear the combine starting. Duty calls.