We were a little late getting out there, but a church friend and farmer has a patch of sweetcorn he graciously gives away each year to people. So, this morning, Saturday, the last weekend before teacher inservice, we stood inside the corn patch with our metal baskets shucking corn. The sky was blue, the white clouds floated effortlessly overhead and the breeze rustled the trees in the grove nearby. At that moment, I was in pure bliss. No, I am not in Beijing, China for the 2008 Olympics...No, I am not on some sunny beach by the ocean taking in the sound of the waves....No, I am not at the Metropolitan Museum of Art taking in the J. M. W. Turner exhibit.
Now the work begins as we scald, scrape and bag the corn for the freezer. Lots of work? yes. But, there is much satisfaction in knowing where my corn has come from, who has handled it, and how it was processed. Nothing worse than a bag of frozen corn from the store, without personality or flavor. Another example of craftsmanship and process.
