I was thinking now that we are in August, we aught to have some corn on the cob pretty soon. I told my husband that as he is the one who frequents little produce stands and gets the goods.
That reminded me also of the farm and things we used to do at this time. When we were little girls, the wagons were in the fields scooping up all of the goodness with their big machines. My sisters and I rode along with the incoming wheat or oats. One time during wheat harvest, my dad showed me some gum he was chewing. I asked him where he got it and he said he put a handful of the wheat in his mouth and chewed and - got gum. I said, "no way. You have some in your pocket. I'd like some." He said I'd have to do it his way. Well, very doubtful, I did as told. At first it was all mush and I had to try hard not to swallow it. But as I kept chewing, it firmed up, a little but at a time until I, too, had a wad of gum to chew. It didn't taste like anything, but, hey, it was free and chewable.
As the wagons filled, they rode the machines to the barn and the chute poured all the grain into big wooded bins that were side by side all along one wall of a little room in the barn. When full, we could climb in and play there. We used to take the kitties in, too. They were less than happy with the situation.
When we grew older, we rode the wagons and caught bugs for our insect collections at school. My dad who was great at making things, made us wonderful, professional glassed boxes to display our collections in. We took our prepared jars and when a good bug came along we scooped it up and put the lid on. Once I got a bright green shiny beetle that was so pretty. He also was unique because I couldn't find him in any of my insect books.
One other thing we did when the hay was baled and stashed on both sides of the barn, was to walk the narrow boards across the mows. It was a long drop to the wagon directly beneath. This story has made its way into all of my first attempts to write fiction. I'm still telling about it. I guess it made quite an impression.
Well, I hope you get some fresh corn this season, I hope you make it to a farm, and I hope you enjoy the last glorious month of summer. Nancy