The corn is as high as an elephant’s eye an’ it looks like it’s climbin’ clear up to the sky—Oscar Hammerstein II

Since moving to Indiana, I see a lot of corn. I think a lot about corn. I could write a song about corn but evidently Mr. Hammerstein took care of that. I think I have developed a corn pollen allergy (is there such a thing?). But, and I can’t stress this enough, I eat a lot of corn.

This time of year in southeastern Indiana, the only place you don’t see corn is where there’re soybeans.

The Native Americans gift to us (along with a little help from Monsanto), had to be eaten fresh, unless they could freeze it in the nearest river or pond until Fred Wolfe got tired of falling into frozen rivers to freeze his corn and decided to invent the refrigerator in 1913.

Today I “put up” some freezer corn, as I heard many hard-workings moms and grandmas say during my childhood in eastern Kentucky. This was my first batch ever. At sixty-six, it was about time I learned this tradition. And let me tell you, I couldn’t have been more proud of myself if I had split the atom. And if you had seen my kitchen at completion, it looked like a small atomic bomb had detonated, I guess from too much yellow corn uranium.

Anyways winter can’t come soon enough for me to enjoy a little bit of summer in Indiana. Thank you Mr. Wolfe.