You’d Think Corn Would Grow Wild in Illinois

Planted corn today. I haven’t had much luck with corn since the late 1980s, when I helped a friend tend his garden in his yard in Warrenville on weekends, in return for produce. But I wasn't really responsible for the fecundity of his garden, he was. And it was very fecund.

Two years ago, constant rains flooded the corn-section of our garden. Last year, we built up the level of the ground with soil and had a drought, but watered it often enough, I thought. The tomatoes and some herbs produced for us, but not the corn. I might have planted it wrong, or maybe the seeds were defective, or maybe I allowed weeds to steal too much nutrients from the corn. I’d chalk it up to experience, but it’s one of those experiences that’s hard to interpret.

The danger of frost is now past, and tomato plants have been put at one end of the garden, so I made a few (potential) short rows of corn. Seeds one inch into the ground, as near as I could estimate. We shall see. Unless we don’t. A few hours after planting, the skies obligingly opened up and watered my corn patch, along with most of the rest of northern Illinois.

Also, the tent came out of storage for the season, and as the sun set, I pitched it in the back yard to air it out. It’s been folded since we broke camp in Yankee Jim Canyon in Montana in early August. It looks no worse for storage in the garage over the winter. Lilly is suspicious that we plan to camp among bears somewhere this summer, so I had to assure her that that’s not the case. Campsite raccoons are more likely, I think.