Quakers in the Country: Corn

It's corn season around here. The sweet corn has hit the farmer's markets, and just this morning I had to dodge a four-row picker being driven through town (it takes up most of the road).

The other night we had 14 ears of corn, two for each of us for dinner:

"Can we shuck the corn now, Dad? Can we? Can we? Please, please . . . "

"Okay."

One hour later we have a neat brown paper bag full of corn husks for projects, and five ears of corn.

"Where are the other nine ears of corn?"

"Starbuck ate one."

"Where are the other eight?"

"I don't know."
"I don't know."
"I don't know."
"I don't know."
"I don't know."

"Where is all the corn you shucked?"

"I don't know."
"I don't know."
"I don't know."
"I don't know."
"I don't know."

"No more corn for you, indefinitely. Eat your ear of corn and go to bed."

"No coffee cake?"
"No coffee cake?"
"No coffee cake?"
"No coffee cake?"
"No coffee cake?"

"No, no, no, no, no."

Now if I could just get our neighbor Chester to come and get his antique one-row corn picker out of our carriage house, I'd be done with corn for a while.