Mid-weekend again. As time seems to pass so quickly, I start to complain, but then I catch myself. The truth is, I like these long nights, and the slippers and soup that come with them.

Now it’s 10pm, and dinner has just been savored. Salad for starters. Butternut squash soup aux poires, with bread and garlic-butter to go with it. Mmm… Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” played somewhere in the background while finishing touches were put on dinner.

I heard “This Land is Your Land,” originally by Woodie Guthrie, last night and the tune has continued to play in my head. I keep humming it.

Meanwhile, I’m amazed at the aesthetics of this indian corn. Through a bit of research, I’ve learned that Native Americans used every part of the corn plant (a philosophy of sorts). Nothing was thrown away. The husks were braided and woven to make masks, moccasins, sleeping mats, baskets, and cornhusk dolls. The cobs were used for fuel, to make darts for a game, or were tied onto a stick to make rattles for ceremonies.

corn 5

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