Last week folks were burning brush and mowing with a fury. The last of the grass seed fields were set ablaze (a month late) even if the chaff had not thoroughly dried from intermittent showers and a heavy dew. Bigger rains were coming.

And they came. And yesterday, a large truck came toward me full with ears of sweet corn. It means little to most, but I uttered, “My Lord!”

I’ve been doing a little anticipating as well, and the time has come. The squash have become Big Beuys and are ready to pick.