As High as an Elephant's Eye

"The corn is as high as an elephant's eye,

and it looks like it's climbing clear up to the sky!

So wrote Oscar Hammerstein in the lyrics to "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning" in "Oklahoma!"

He could have been referring to summer in Michigan, not Oklahoma.

My grandparents had a small farm. It wasn't their sole livelihood, but it kept them going during the depression and filled the larder during the cold winter months for as long as I could remember their being fit enough to manage it.

(Grandma, Grandpa, Grandma's brother Uncle Sam and his wife Aunt Merle,
and my Great Grandmother, Delia.)

I was often roped into helping pick whatever veggie or fruit was in season. I think they especially appreciated my strawberry picking skills -- I was much lower to the ground than any of the adults!

And of course, I "helped" with making strawberry jam, pickles and canning vegetables. I say "helped," but mostly I observed. However, going down to the cold cellar with the deep, dark cistern to help Grandma put the glass jars on the shelves was one of the high points of the whole process!

We had two mealtime traditions in the summer: Strawberry shortcake dinner in June (all shortcake, none of those nasty green things!), and Corn-on-the-cob dinner in August (all corn, with sweet butter, salt and pepper).

I loved them both.

These days, we don't really do that anymore. But when it's corn season, I can't resist a farm stand with corn picked fresh that day.

It isn't as good as that Grandma and Grandpa used to grow. But I'll boil it up (bring to a boil, boil three minutes and sit covered for 10), lay on the butter and add salt or my favorite new alternative -- the juice from a wedge of lime.

And I'll be thinking of my grandparents with every bite.