In Which I Farm ("Farm"), Part 2

Moo's family is very kind to indulge my need to do farm tasks badly. On Saturday I picked corn. I spent hours and days and weeks and months and years of my childhood picking and snapping green beans. And when I was older, my family picked strawberries and blueberries in the summers. I had never picked corn before, though. Moo's brother, FarmerBoy, drove me out to the field (giving me the option of reaching the corn by climbing a barbed wire fence or jumping a ditch) and showed me how to identify ripe ears and pick the corn and then proceeded to pick corn a billion times faster than I can. I picked about 130 years of corn. He picked a whole lot more than that.

ALSO

This is what picking corn sounds like when FarmerBoy does it:
whoosh. silence. whoosh. silence.

And this is what picking corn sounds like when MBC does it:
WHOP CRASH SWOSH

I am not graceful in a corn field.

Moo sent me home with corn and peaches AND her grandma's shoes. Three pairs from the '40s. They are FAN-tastic.

These are my favorites, even though they were designed to bend my feet in ways that nature did not intend.

My brother took some pictures of me wearing the shoes, but I was not smart and had him take them while I was standing on carpet that was close to the color of the shoes, so they didn't turn out well. Trust me, though, they're striking.

I wore the shoes to church with the Marmot Family (the Marmot Babe was blessed today; more on that later). When I got out of the car, Madame 5-yr-old exclaimed, "Oh, Aunt, your shoes are BEAUTIFUL," and Madame 3-yr-old informed me that she has shoes just like mine except that hers are white and decorated with butterflies. I find that claim highly unlikely. All the same, the shoes were a hit.