The Corn Pile

Papa had some corn that was wet and sprouting in a grain bin, so he was in the process of moving it out of the bin and into a pile down by the hay bales and silage pile.  This meant that to my boys’ great delight, they were able to drive in a grain truck and help move some of the corn.  Then, best of all, Papa told them they could play in the corn pile.  It was a huge hit.  When the girls were around the next day, everyone headed down to the corn pile for some climbing, sliding, jumping and rolling.  Truly, it was the kind of experience they will remember forever.

My mom was pretty patient with all of the corn that ended up in her house, even though we did our very best to shake and dust everybody off before they entered.  We emptied pockets, turned clothes inside out and upside down on the porch.  There was a small corn pile on the porch outside the door when we were through, even.  Still I kept finding corn in weird places in my mom’s house, and we even managed to bring some all the way back to Duluth.  I’m still picking up corn, and it was totally worth it.