Reaping

Every year in my mother-in-law’s garden, she saves a corner for us to grow popcorn. Her garden is more like a small field. Planning starts in January, seeds ordered in February and started in her basement in March. Come June, the boys and I carefully space and plant the kernels in the rows she has saved for us. She can grow anything. Of my 2 boys, short R is the gardener like his Grandma. Tall R takes after his mama, no green thumb.

We harvest the corn at the end of the growing season. Popcorn is like field corn, you let it dry on the plant. Once picked, we shuck it and put it in the stone barn to dry out more. When October brings cooler temps, my father-in-law starts the woodstove and the corn is brought in and dried by the fire.

Today I was sitting by our open sliding door, enjoying the warm sunshine and the fresh air. We brought another batch of popcorn cobs home to be shucked of kernels and I sat enjoying the day, shucking popcorn until my fingers started to blister. I was thinking of all the time and love that went into this years crop. My boys are so blessed with grandparents that sow so much more than just popcorn seeds. Patience, knowledge, love. There is nothing that tastes as sweet as our homegrown popcorn.

Published by raisingrr

Mom of boys, teacher of art, rider of horses.

2 thoughts on “Reaping

  1. Your post is lovely, capturing the essence of the deep relationships between your sons and their grandmother. These lines made me smile, “I was thinking of all the time and love that went into this years crop. My boys are so blessed with grandparents that sow so much more than just popcorn seeds. Patience, knowledge, love. There is nothing that tastes as sweet as our homegrown popcorn.” What a beautiful metaphor. Welcome aboard!

    Like

  2. Beautiful story about the homegrown memories and traditions you live within each season and how they somehow circle back to each other. The blisters on your hands, though painful, are reminders of your swelling heart and the people who you call family.

    Our family’s weekly chalkboard message was written by Maggie (unsolicited) today, and it says, “SOW your love!” How ironic!

    Like

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