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Dat's a Lotta Sweet Corn, Mom

Sweet corn day yields plenty of sweat, stickiness and bugs...and also lots of yummy frozen corn for next winter.

It was sweet corn day at our place last Thursday, and if you have any connection whatsoever to the farm, I'm trusting you know what that means. Because when you have a sweet corn "patch" that's measured in acres, not rows, sweet corn day is an all-day affair of picking, shucking, silking, cutting, cooking, bagging and freezing. And de-bugging. Ugh. I hate those nasty ear worms. Bleck.

But I like eating sweet corn in January. And so does my family. So, we have one giant sticky, messy, sweaty day of putting up the sweet corn. Or maybe more than one day, depending on how ambitious we are.

Our day started off with a bang, when my five-year-old spotted a raccoon in the patch. He came screaming and wailing out of the patch and told a sordid tale of how the "wacoon was on da vewy next path of me!" He was seriously traumatized. We tried to explain that that old raccoon was probably screaming and running the other way, just as scared as he was. He didn't buy it. He suffered from "wacoon headaches" for the next two days. I could not make that up.

But anyway. The corn. We started out with 8 buckets of ears, and bless my mother-in-law's heart, she helped me the whole day. We picked, hauled and delivered corn to neighbors. Then it was back to her yard to shuck.

My five-year-old took one look at all the corn and said, "Wow. Dat's a lotta sweet corn, Mom." Then he shucked one ear, pronounced himself done, and went off to play in Grandma's corn box.

Beautiful shucked corn. It's a work in progress.

Nasty ear worms. Did any of you have these bad this year? Ours were terrible; I bet 70 to 80% of the ears I shucked were wormy. Bleck.

Blessed progress. Yummy for cows, too.

The beautiful bottom of the last bucket. Woohoo! And it wasn't even lunchtime yet.

Piled up in the house, ready to be cut off. 

Just keep cutting, keep on cutting… (sing it like Dory in Nemo, except cutting instead of swimming!) I used my fancy-schmancy Pampered Chef corn cutter again this year, and managed to cut myself three times in the first half hour. I don't even know what happened. Last year, I used it all day, no problem. If you own one, just consider yourself warned, that's all I’m saying.

But come January, bodily injuries will be long forgotten and boy, will that sweet corn be good.

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