Husking corn

Brian T Maurer's Weblog

On the morning of this Independence Day I sit on the stoop of my back porch, feet planted firmly on the short stretch of concrete walkway, husking sweet corn. I select an ear from the brown bag, part the dark tassel and strip down the outer husk. Rows of shiny kernels, yellow and white, glisten in the late morning sun. I snap off the base and lay the cleaned ear on the heavy oval plate at my side. High in the trees that tower above my neighbor’s house a vireo pipes his clear, crisp notes. Momentarily, I pause in my labor to look up; but the bird is hidden in the densely leafed canopy.

A chipmunk pops her head up from a crevice in the red stone wall to survey the scene. In a moment she poses prettily on a capstone, watching me work. Sparrows descend to perch atop our…

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