There is an awful lot of corn in Ohio.
I'm looking out our back window right now, and there is an ocean of it about 20 yards away. I could go swimming! I don't even see any husks yet, and in a lot of places it's almost as tall as I am. If there weren't so many darn bugs (see "Ohio: The first week"), it would probably be pretty cool to go tunneling around in it like a kid.
Supposedly the corn does well in the muggy climate, but as of yet we really haven't seen much mug. Mugginess? Mugosity? I guess I should have said "we haven't seen much humidity," but what are we, English majors or something? Supposebly theire're good at spellin' and such.
It would be awesome if I could be typing this out on our back porch with my feet in the pool, but there is a swarm of box elder bugs just waiting to crawl all over me. I've already used this poetic description to someone else, but I find it pretty accurate, so I'll say it again: I'm a prime piece of Oregonian veal laid out on a short-sleeve shirt and capri-pant platter for every bug in the Midwest to sample. Seriously, it's like they can see my mushroom pale skin from a mile away, and they come homing in like frat boys to sex pants. Okay, "sex pants" is an old expression, but it worked.
So I asked Dan about not being able to see the husks yet, and he said we have a few weeks before that will come. Our veritable sea of corn will become an endless expanse of . . . green, I guess, since obviously corn is not blue like the ocean. Hmmm, doesn't have the same ring. Nor does it have the same ring to say, "Off we go, into the wild green yonder!" Still, it's very lush-looking and healthy.
I can just imagine the bugs teeming from here.