The Corn and the Ol Cobb

　

The day had been filled with one mishap after another, frustrating to say the least, for those that had to participate. Holidays always seem to bring a bit of disappointment to me on the farm. It seems to be the only time of the entire year that the hay is ready to be cut or baled or transferred from the field, bringing the family together yet again, however not in a picnic setting. Yes, when there is hay to be cut everyone must participate. Oh no, there is no choice in the matter. It is the way...

On one of these days the ol farmers wife had been ill. To the point that morning, he had been concerned enough to ask if she needed to go to the doctor. Of course not she replied, she would feel better as soon as this flu had run it's course. Now we all know how the flu can affect one's need to stay close to home. The day had gone by with little relief and the wife was not feeling well at all. The heat that had climbed up into the 90's hadn't helped the situation either. Well, around 4 o'clock, the ol farmer came bursting into the house and told her to bring the truck to the field and hook up to a trailer. He just as quickly went back out the door without another word, or an answer. Giving it a good slam too, to emphasize that he had spoken and that was that! It was hay day!

Well, the wife got herself up off the sofa and dressed. Making her way to the field and hooking up that blessed trailer, the sweat had soaked her clothes and her eyes were burning from it. Climbing back into the truck and pulling up beside the bale to be loaded, she began to think of the blessings of marriage and farming. Picturing the words overlapping one another, in other words, one was synonymous with the other and today was not the day to test the joys of marriage. Just as she pictured another font in her mindless word scramble, the old farmer came to the truck and peered into the window at her. He wanted to remind her not to run the air conditioner because it might over heat the truck.

Ok, thanks for the heads up honey...or was it jealousy? He didn't have a dry spot on him anywhere and was sun burned to boot. Yes, that was it. Pure jealousy. I, the wife, had the truck with the air in it and he was on an open tractor. Oh well, so sad I thought as I turned up the air and pointed the vent to my face. Oh my, it felt so good I positioned all the vents to the various positions that pointed to every inch of myself! Ha! I thought. My own little holiday celebration. I smiled, as I wished that I were closer to the house in case of...need. But feeling better now that I could feel that cool air against my skin, just me and not him. So sad, as I watch him wipe the sweat from his eyes so he could see again, through the fog of dirt and hay seeds flying around him, sticking to the sweat as if with glue.

I lean out the window and holler to him, you look good that way honey! He doesn't laugh or smile, humph. He must be in a bad mood..oh yeah..he has been on that tractor all day long. I truly am starting to feel better now as I turn the music up..loud in my air conditioned truck. Uh oh, I missed the signal to move forward to receive another bale on my trailer. I cut the music down a bit now, so that I really can pay attention. You know, I wouldn't want to make him mad... Hmm..maybe I can rock the truck a bit back and fourth so that he can't drop the bale, you know, being a woman I just can't do things like a man. Being blond helps too. lol Now this is starting to be fun, pretending that I can't drive the truck into the right position. Holidays...

Just as I suspected would happen, he gets off the tractor and comes over to the truck. His head is down and his stride is long and fast. Oh, and look at those little fists clenched into a ball. I hide my smile and lean out the window asking ever so sweetly if everything is alright. He proceeds to tell me in a voice so loud that the words can't be decoded, that I need to keep the truck stopped while he is putting the bale on. He then goes into a dissertation of keeping the bales tight so they don't fall off while going down the road. I raise my head and smile. Uh oh..no he's not..yes, he is pointing... at me with a big ol finger in my face. Poor thing, hasn't he learned anything after all these years? My smile turns into a thin line as I reply, ok Daddy.

That stopped his tirade of how to drive a truck. Yes, he had learned his lesson now. He knew he was in for it, as my son a few yards away sitting on the other tractor just shook his head and laughed. He knew this was going to be a long night now. He gets off his tractor and comes over to the ol farmer. They talk for a few minutes and the ol farmer gets on the other tractor as my son takes over loading my trailer. Tricked!! My own son has gotten the best of me, just as I was planning my revenge so sweetly. I feel the heat rising now, as I know now I must behave. After all, my son had nothing to do with my being there, it wasn't his fault. I am thoroughly disgusted that I don't get the opportunity to rock that truck and make things difficult, when my sweet son is smart enough to ask if I feel ok.
Yep, my heart has melted and I am now contented to behave and do my job..the right way. The day got longer as we continue into the night to tote those bales and put them safely in the barn.

Everyone is tired and hot as we head to the house to finally grab some kind of dinner. I pull out leftovers and make everyone a plate, thinking how grateful that I had enough to make a meal for them quickly. Thinking too, that the ol farmer would feel better now with a good meal in his belly and the cool air on his face. No...I was wrong. He must not feel too much better as he says he will have to feed the sweet corn to the cows that we had planned to have on this holiday since I didn't get it fixed for dinner. Of course his meaning was, that he had counted on that corn for dinner and he was disappointed, so his smarmy remark at 10 o'clock at night didn't quite sit with me, not quite at all.

Of course, he has no memory at all that I have the flu, actually, the day has gotten so completely out of whack, I really don't know if I still have a head. The remark about the corn however has struck a chord. Fine, you want corn so bad, you sir, will get corn. I pull out the bag of corn and start to shuck it. In the middle of the kitchen floor. I place each fine kerneled piece into a pan on the stove, the water is starting to boil now, much like my blood. He is trying to apologize with all his might at this point, telling me he didn't mean it, he is so sorry. I continue to shuck corn, not saying a word. He hangs his head and proceeds to pick up the shucks I have carelessly (purposly) let fly on the floor. My son doesn't know if it's appropriate to laugh or not, after all, this ol farmer is his stepfather.
He can stand it no more and rolls into uncontrollable laughter. It's catching and we are all finally standing in the middle of corn shucks laughing our heads off.

We did finally enjoy that corn on the cob that night, dripping in butter and laughter, after much ado about it on my part of course, you know, being a woman. Now that we were all fed and full, everyone was in a better mood, even me. My flu seemed to have...boiled away.