At the request of the Lovely Hannah Bee, I will begin to post pictures of the Angelo Ercoli Memorial Garden of Eaten. This year, I have planted 15 rows of an early variety of sweet corn. We have a short growing season up here on the mountain. The special heirloom corn seed I ordered, which requires about 100 days to mature, was delivered late, so I was forced to choose a substitute to make up for the lost time. The heirloom seed, Stowell's Evergreen, will wait in the bottom drawer of our refrigerator until next year.
I love the power inherent in corn. It is inspiring to me to see how the Lord has endowed these simple seeds. I rejoice to be able to participate in a small way in the creative process, to reenact a tradition that was instituted in the very beginning by God Himself. To till, plant, tend and dress our gardens is an activity rich in similitudes, designed to teach everlasting principles. It is a process both temporal and eternal. "Behold, we will plant a garden eastward in Eden."
Over 30 years ago, I planted corn on borrowed land in Provo, Utah. The soil tended to clump together there because of the presence of clay. I still remember my delight at the sight of those first corn plants pushing up through the hard soil. There was power in those leaves! I remember one, though, that was bent under a clump of clay, working against the weight of it. I thought I'd do a kind deed and lift the adversity from off the plant, thereby freeing it to grow faster. That was a mistake. I learned a lesson as I observed its progress. The plant that I, in my innocent ignorance, "assisted" by giving it ease at a critical period of growth, was stunted and barren. I believe our personal struggle against the weight of adversity develops a spiritual strength and fruitfulness in us that can not come in any other way.
Here is a view of my backyard corn patch, which is now about one month along.