Sadly, I lost a stalk in a recent thunderstorm. But otherwise the corn is doing well. Tassels are slowly lifting themselves out from the leaves. One reason I love growing corn is that it moves at just the right pace.
And I also love growing these rare, Northeastern varieties of corn is for reasons described in this passage of Teju Cole’s beautiful novel Open City:
There had been communities here before Columbus ever set sail, before Verrazano anchored his ships in the narrows, or the black Portuguese slave trader Esteban Gomez sailed up the Hudson; human beings had lived here, built homes, and quarreled with their neighbors ling before the Dutch ever say a business opportunity in the rich furs and timber of the island and its calm bay. Generations rushed through the eye of the needle and I, one of the still legible crowd, entered the subway. I wanted to find the line that connected me to my own part in these stories.
The corn, for me, is that “line”.