The photo isn’t what’s waiting —
It’s ME that’s waiting, and this is what I’m waiting for, for next summer’s corn season. Corn might as well be my middle name. I eat it just about every day in season, in one form or another. So moving from the Berkshires to the Pioneer Valley for me has meant two extra weeks of fresh corn in this milder, more fertile region. Some corn is better than others, but I never met an ear of corn I didn’t like. Oh, it’s a long long way from the end of September till the end of July — But I can dream, can’t I?
This photo for me is a memory and a promise, a token of the bounty that will surely come again — It reminds me what I’m waiting for.