Every single time I shuck corn I am reminded of that song I Feel For You.
Shucka Corn, Shucka Corn, Shucka Corn let me rock you let me rock you Shucka Corn....
If you don't know what I'm talking about then please get off the internet and go ask your parents. And if I hear, "Um, yeah, April, it's Chaka Khan" I am going to roll my eyes back into my brain and then email you some of my sarcasm, wit and ability to recreate the words of any 80's rock song to fit the mood of the moment. It's a gift.
Anyway. I mowed down my pathetic corn. I couldn't stand the sight of it anymore. It was disgusting me. The sight of it was a constant reminder that I have a garden full of rocks. It had to go. I failed.
As I was mowing it down Clay yelled at me, "Don't you think that's being a bit rash?! I mean look at that one stalk. It was doing really well!"
Then I mowed over him. Now my garden looks great.
Admitting to my failure I went down the road and picked sweet corn at a U-Pick farm.
Shucka Corn, Shucka Corn
Shucka Corn let me boil you, let me boil you Shucka CornOh, and one more thing about corn........