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When you are surrounded by corn, best to embrace it.
I embrace the corn.
On every walk in the Land of Lincoln, I could hear rustling in the corn.
It might have been the breeze.
Then again, it might not.
Early in the morning, before decaffeine, it felt like being corn-stalked.
Rustling of the Corn.
LOL Sister said it was most likely deer.
That’s because she would like me to come back next year.
I’m thinking Tim Burton corn.
Maybe even Stephen King corn.
And I’m more like candy corn.
Just sayin’.
Really. I’m just kidding.
Mebbe.
It was a thing of beauty, all that corn.
Here be Friday of the long Thanksgiving weekend in Canadaland. I can hardly wrap my two morning brain cells around that. We’re breaking with tradition and foregoing the turkey extravaganza. We’re going to chillax. We’re going to take the Super Techlet and the G-Pup to commune with nature. A fresh apple fritter might be involved. A Starbucks, too. Hello, City Girl!
Walk.
Graze.
Pick some apples.
Visit the corn.
TGIF, baby.
You know what to do. Meet you in the bar in 3…2…1…
Elen
Happy Thanksgiving to all my Canadian mates!
Elen Grey 
I love gazing at cornfields but the one time I ventured into a maze I nearly died of claustrophobic panic, and had to suppress the panic because the grandkids were with me! Never again.
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Of course I meant to say “nice writing” but the panic overcame me 🙂
Nice writing !!!
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LOL Thank you.
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Excellent!
Better not to think of “Children of the Corn.”
A cornfield can be a creepy place. You can go a few rows into a cornfield and feel completely cut off from the world. And if the corn is high enough, a cornfield can feel almost airless.
I’m a bit claustrophobic, so I stay out of cornfields.
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I understand. When we visited Prince Edward Island in the autumn of 2012, a local community was having a Farm Day. There was a corn maze. I could not go in. Could. Not. Pretty much all mature corn is taller than I am. And thank you!
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