The Cool Dew of the Corn Stalk

A cool crisp August morning with dew dripping from the corn leaves, remains on the edge of my memory. Sitting there in stupor, like I did many mornings. I slumped on the tailgate of an old GM pickup truck. Waiting for the yell to get picking, I sat still - my body awake and my mind still in denial.

The signal would be sent and like a swarm of insects we would spread out across the rows. Two rows per kid to begin the task of breaking off the cobs for some one's dinner. I didn't view it as food though. The distraction of a stream of dew running down my neck would furrow my brow. Then some unlucky spider would have his web destroyed by my face as I lumbered down the row.

Bend over, pick the cob, place it in the crook of my arm, get another.... arms full - then I would drop it on the conveyor and back down the row again.

My nostrils were an average size, I am sure. Somehow a corn tassel would rise up and drive its way - causing extreme sneezing. The large corn leafs would slap me across the cheek and across the backs of my hands.

By the end of the row I would hope for a delay. Some reason to stop. On we went. The corn was sweet, ripe and ready for the tables. We had to forge on. Day after day, through August we reaped the harvest. Every few days a new field would come on. The orders would demand more. The fertile soil and southern Alberta climate producing a tasty treat for farmer and city dweller alike.

One evening, by 8:00 we were done. Nearly twelve hours of work. Larry, Cam and I were driving the last truck out of the field. A dusty caravan of tired bodies ready to eat and sleep. Driving down the dusty country roads we stopped and discovered three flat tires on the old truck.

Leaving one behind, Larry and I started our walk to civilization. The first farm house we past had a dog that wouldn't let us past the gate. On we trudged. Past another house - no one was home. Finally, a Mountie drove up.

"What are you two boys doing out here at night?" He looked a little bemused. Oblivious to our aches and disappointment he rescued us and got word back home for someone to come out with some tires.

That night as I walked across the farm yard searching for my bed, I heard the crickets chirp and strolled under a canopy of bright stars and all I could think of was how cold that dew was going to be the next morning.