I began walking the boulevard near my home earlier this summer -- a three mile stretch that takes me from paved, rural suburbia to dirt roads, farmhouses, cornfield, pavement and our small downtown. Because I'm not the type of person who likes doing only one thing at a time, I took lots of photos with my iphone to pass the time. I became enamored with the large field of corn that almost stretched for a mile of the walk. Since it has stayed there unplucked I assume it is cow corn so I have had the chance to witness and write about its lifespan. While I turned these posts into poetry, I found the images equally as moving -- the way the silk changed from blush to withered brown, the growth from lean, slim bodies to plump overripened ears that burst forth from their husks. I loved to watch the husks sway in the wind and whisper to each other and sit soaking in the later heat. I watched as the ears leaned toward each other and eventually entwined. It was uniquely moving even without putting words to the actions, just watching and bearing witness to nature's own story. I have posted what I have written including links to earlier pieces on the blog already, but thought I'd gather them here again in one place.
Part 1 (Walk 8/9/13; Published 8/10/13): Husks
Part 2 (Walk 8/9/13; Published 8/11/13): Blondes
Part 3 (Walk 8/27/13; Published 8/27/13): Husks II
Part 4 (Walk 9/3/13; Published 9/24/13): Sleepy, Sun-Soaked Days
Part 5 (Walk 9/22/13; Published 9/24/13) : Husked