I hate corn, I hate corn, I hate corn!

Growing up in our home one didn't go to the store to get a can of corn.  Come to think back we didn't go to the grocery store to get much.  We grew almost all the fruits and veggies.

Most of the year, except winter it seemed like most of what we did around our house centered around the garden.  As soon as it got warm enough in the spring we were out tilling the garden to get it ready to plant.

Now that I'm thinking about it the garden was on my Dad's mind even in winter.  Late winter was when the seed catalogs arrived and Dad picked all the seeds for the spring and fall plantings.   Let's see if I can remember, there were the standards, "Jet Star" tomatoes,  "Kandy Kane" was the sweet corn, green and yellow wax beans, etc.

Mom was proud of her Sweetcorn field

Durring canning season, which seemed like all summer, Mom would get up and out to pick whatever needed picking by 5am.  Five am was cooler and my sister and I were still sleeping.   I think it was a good time for some peace and quiet from us two kids also.  By the time she got us up in the morning she had picked whatever was ready, got the water boiling, and made breakfast for us two kids.  Our job was to clean our rooms, eat breakfast and then help her can.  When it came to canning corn our job was to cut the corn off the cob, put it in freezer bags and take it down stairs and put it in the freezer.  I think, the only one of those we did without complaining was eat breakfast.  OK, I'm sure my sister and I complained about everything or were kicking each other under the table.     

A modern take on corn relish

 As I recall, one year during sweet corn season, it was the third or fourth day into canning corn, we broke for lunch.  I'm not sure what Mom fixed but more than likely peanut butter sandwiches, maybe some fresh sliced tomatoes, whatever.  What happend next is something my Mom told on me, even in her 90's.

Lunch break was over and neither my sister nor Mom could find me.  They looked outside, yelled for me in the basement, called the neighbors, etc.  Finally, Mom went in my room and heard something coming out of my closet.  She opened the closet door and found me yelling as loud as I could into my pillow, "I hate corn, I hate corn, I hate corn".  I guess I had had enough!  In her loving way she explained that it was a lot of work now but come winter that corn sure would taste goooood.  Knowing me I'm sure that didn't help much, I wanted to be out riding my bike or playing baseball with the other kids in the neighborhood.

Mary and I ready to catch the bus for school

 Mom was right, come winter that corn tasted really goooood!