It’s October. Halloween. To some of you insane individuals that means corn mazes. What are you thinking? Seriously, are you nuts?
I grew up next to a corn field and I can assure you there are things in the corn. No, I’m not talking about the four legged furry kind of things. I’m talking about the other kind. The kind you can’t see. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. They are. Stand there if you dare. Let it get quiet and you’ll feel them.
When I was a kid I was friends with the boy on the other side of the field. Never, even in the winter when the field was bare, did we cut through it to visit. Not in the spring when it was freshly tilled. Not when the corn was newly sprouted. The things in the corn stayed in the field no matter what the season. We always went all the way around the field. Always. His grandfather knew though we never talked about it. He rented the field to a local farmer who planted it in corn. One year he decided no more corn. He told the farmer to plant something else or the lease would not be renewed. After that the field was fine to walk in. Winter wheat, oats, soy beans anything other than corn and nothing. Whatever had been there with the corn was gone.
It wasn’t just field corn either. Jan, the woman I went to when I needed mothering lived down the hill from us. One year her husband decided to plant two huge fields of sweet corn. No one ever figured exactly why he did that. That’s just the way he was. The only thing to do was to sell it at the local farmers market. That was the only fun part about it.
I remember sitting in her kitchen, crying once the corn started to grow. Jan was like that. She didn’t laugh at me. She listened when I told her I was afraid for her to be there alone with the corn. I think I spent the whole summer at her house like I could protect her somehow. When the corn was ready to be picked I was youngest so I got to stay in the truck and count the ears instead of doing any of the picking. You should have seen me. I stayed dead center in the middle of the truck bed. Never did any part of me extend over the edge. Jan told me I didn’t have to help at all. She would have fixed it with my parents but again, I had to be there to watch out for her. Being the sweetheart she was Jan made sure her husband never put us through that again. Nope, no more corn planting there. Not even a few rows, just for them.
Anyway as I started out saying there are things in the corn that you can’t see. But they are there. Oh yes they most definitely are there. And they know exactly where you are within those mazes at every second. You are not safe because one of these times they will decide they are tired of you traipsing around and they will get you. So stay out of the corn.
I grew up next to a corn field and I can assure you there are things in the corn. No, I’m not talking about the four legged furry kind of things. I’m talking about the other kind. The kind you can’t see. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. They are. Stand there if you dare. Let it get quiet and you’ll feel them.
When I was a kid I was friends with the boy on the other side of the field. Never, even in the winter when the field was bare, did we cut through it to visit. Not in the spring when it was freshly tilled. Not when the corn was newly sprouted. The things in the corn stayed in the field no matter what the season. We always went all the way around the field. Always. His grandfather knew though we never talked about it. He rented the field to a local farmer who planted it in corn. One year he decided no more corn. He told the farmer to plant something else or the lease would not be renewed. After that the field was fine to walk in. Winter wheat, oats, soy beans anything other than corn and nothing. Whatever had been there with the corn was gone.
It wasn’t just field corn either. Jan, the woman I went to when I needed mothering lived down the hill from us. One year her husband decided to plant two huge fields of sweet corn. No one ever figured exactly why he did that. That’s just the way he was. The only thing to do was to sell it at the local farmers market. That was the only fun part about it.
I remember sitting in her kitchen, crying once the corn started to grow. Jan was like that. She didn’t laugh at me. She listened when I told her I was afraid for her to be there alone with the corn. I think I spent the whole summer at her house like I could protect her somehow. When the corn was ready to be picked I was youngest so I got to stay in the truck and count the ears instead of doing any of the picking. You should have seen me. I stayed dead center in the middle of the truck bed. Never did any part of me extend over the edge. Jan told me I didn’t have to help at all. She would have fixed it with my parents but again, I had to be there to watch out for her. Being the sweetheart she was Jan made sure her husband never put us through that again. Nope, no more corn planting there. Not even a few rows, just for them.
Anyway as I started out saying there are things in the corn that you can’t see. But they are there. Oh yes they most definitely are there. And they know exactly where you are within those mazes at every second. You are not safe because one of these times they will decide they are tired of you traipsing around and they will get you. So stay out of the corn.
4 comments:
Things in the corn huh? There's another book for you and the blog is has copyright so go for it
Yep. I think Amarinda's got it right on.
You may have something there. My 2nd kitty ventured into the corn and was found dead after the harvest. Don't know if it was the spookies or the combine.
Jeez...WV is 'fwwwwwnight'
Okay. I'm scared. Put this down. I will never look at corn in the same way again.
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