Today I was going to share a bunch of pictures with you from my recent travels home, but when I got to George House, the local coffee shop here in Findlay where I do my writing when I'm home, I realized I forgot my cord to link my camera. So instead I'm going to talk about something I've been thinking on a lot lately: corn.
While I was driving through Oklahoma I realized that I love the smell of corn. Oklahoma was fragrant with it, and so is Ohio. I realized something else though as I drove, that my earliest memories of that smell came from my grandpa's garden. I loved my grandpa's garden. I loved shelling beans. I loved the smell of corn in a pot of water. I miss my grandpa so much.
Today as I rode my bike to Oakwoods, I couldn't help but think about all of this as I went past the corn that's now taller than me. I was also reminded of a time when I an ex that I just wanted to run through the corn (like little girl Jenny does in Forrest Gump). He informed me that they used to make criminals run through corn as punishment. That dream was squashed.
I'm glad that every year I get a happy little reminder of my grandpa, who seemed to plant a love for growing things in me.