On the Cob
Painting this corn on the cob reminded me of childhood summers and working in the garden with my Dad.
For as long as I can remember, my father planted a large garden. And, he still does. I loved to help him. As I placed corn kernels, hunks of potato, and tiny onions in the ground, a feeling of hope and promise filled me. I marveled at the straight rows, and the little seeds that grew into giants. Planting miniature versions of vegetables felt like a million little possibilities
In August, we could start to pick the corn. Pulling away the husk, was like unwrapping a present. Under the papery wrapper, rows and rows of sweet kernels waited for a slather of butter and salt. We devoured those ears of corn on the cob. Fresh green beans, cucumber salad, and baby potatoes completed any meal.
I still relish plant seeds, and see those little seeds reach for the sun. I especially love it when I can step outside to ‘pick dinner. Although I didn’t pick this ear of corn from my garden, I still delight in knowing that a seed created this ear of corn. And, there’s nothing like the taste of fresh corn on the cob, slathered in butter and salt!
6×8, oil on canvas