planting corn in the front yard

Yup, I’m planting corn. Put it in on the full moon of early September, punched a little hole in the earth with my thumb and pushed them in there, an inch and a half underground. They were watered the very next day by a gentle rain. I got the seeds (technically kernels) from a neighbor who had 12 foot high corn growing in her front yard during the summer. It was spectacular. I would ride by on my bike, on my way to school or to the grocery store and see it growing there. One day I stopped to meet her and compliment her on her 12 foot high corn (plus the rest of her garden) and to ask her how she did it. Her whole garden was flowering, fecund (love that word) and I thought maybe I could pickup some gardening secrets. Like does she talk to her plants or something? She gave me two handfuls of seeds: green, yellow and red and said ‘These are from Mexico - legacy seeds, traditional seeds’ but she revealed no secrets. She just did it the normal way, she said. I’ve kept them in the refrigerator until now. The Mexican culture and the whole Mesoamerican civilization was based on growing corn along with beans and squash which I have also planted in mi ranchito. My front yard is a garden, a flower patch, a weed lot, a nursery, a grove, a cove, a corn field and a ranchito. All the plants and trees that have gathered here, from wherever they came from, have formed a congregation and here they sing their hymns together, offer their prayers and praise to the sky and the earth, the rain and the sun. That’s how it seems to me, and that they enjoy each others company, from the smallest little green sprout spurting out of the dark earth to the magnificent Monterey Oak with the grotto underneath monitoring the front entrance. This is how the ancient people knew it, those who lived here before me and the unknown generations that lived here before them. The land was an expression of mother nature, she was smiling or laughing or telling a story. They felt her love, certainly, from the food she bestowed and from the sweet air she breathed thru the trees and the sweet water that flowed in the springs. She was harsh sometimes, when the drought came and a sacrifice was required of the people. But she was a goddess and they were honored to know her and proud that she was their goddess and they accepted her blessings as well as her curses. That’s how the ancient people saw it, the natives who knew this land and recognized it as a living being, a goddess and a member of the family almost. And that’s how it was. The land and the hills and the seasons and the plants and the wild eruption of wild flowers in the spring and the clamor of birds and squirrels in the branches hopping around harvesting the hackberries and the anaqua’s tiny sweet apples growing next to it and the beating of the summer sun and the rainy days of autumn . . . all this was her expression, her personality, her painting, her story. The natural world was her art. In the Mayan culture, the corn god is depicted as a young boy emerging from inside the corn husks as if they were the petals of a flower, which they kinda are. Two flowers actually, the male and female both have their own flowers and they conspire together to make corn. A mischievous endeavor, i can imagine, and one well suited for an innocent young boy. Both sexes grow from the same stem together somehow. I haven’t actually grown any corn yet, none that developed ears with kernels, but that is my goal. The ‘ear’ is actually the female flower and each kernel on it is attached with its silk thread to a point of pollination outside of the rough husk. The male flower is the tassel at the top radiating out pollen like an antenna. Yeah, baby, and that’s why I’m curious to see if I can grow corn this time. Going in a little late, it can’t handle freezing weather too well, maybe a little bit. We’ll see. I visited the Lacandon Maya, once, deep in the Chiapas jungle. The reason I went there was to return the son of one of the patriarchs. He somehow had ended up in Palenque and was in need of a ride home. I thought it would be a fine adventure and a friendly gesture and so it was. I got to drive out into the jungle on a bumpy road in my red Suburu and hang out with Chun Kin and his family and deliver their son. One day the brother asked me if I would like to see his garden. I said yes and he took me on a short walk, not on any trail that I could see but sort of in and amongst the trees and plants of the jungle. At one place he stopped and looked around and started telling me about the plants. And then I saw it too, it was his garden. It wasn’t rows of well cultivated and weeded vegetables, like carrots marching off in a line to the edge of the field, but there was stuff growing and it was nestled here and there, wherever it found shelter and sustenance. It was a neighborhood. It was his garden growing in the jungle. Mayan jungle garden. I hold the same philosophy. The Chun Kin clan had recently hooked up an electric line to their little palapa (somehow) and were enjoying the benefits of electricity. An electric light bulb and an electric grinder of some sort were the two appliances I could identify. At one point the light went out in the hut and one of the women lit a candle. The husband started fiddling with the electrical switch on the post, but to no avail. We were sitting in darkness except for one candle. The woman (I assume his wife) went over to the switch and touched it and the light went on. It was like a magic trick. I think I was the audience. Number one son took me on a trek to Bonampak, a little known Mayan ruin (at that time) with a beautiful mural still visible. Heck of a hike and a network of paths going every which way but the kid knew what he was doing. Think about that - he was about 12 or 13 years old and he was traveling alone to Palenque and guiding tourists thru the jungle to archeological sites when he got home. He also had a motorbike or somebody in the family did. Anyways I was really into the Mayan culture for awhile. Still am. And anyways it’s pleasant to sit here in my jungle garden and watch the sun shine thru the translucent leaves as it glides thru the sky downwards slowly towards the rim of the earth. What a love dance - the sun and the earth. That’s how the ancient people saw it. But we’re modern. We’ve got science. So that’s it. News from the ranchito. Growing corn in the front yard. Can’t wait to nibble on those succulent little kernels growing like jewels on that ear encased in the heavy leaves of the corn husk, hidden in there like a young boy waiting to spring a surprise on everyone. Ha! I don’t know what the story is. What kind of myths they had about the corn god. So I have to make up my own. 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