obsession

Refresh. Refresh, refresh, refresh. Once more. Nothing. Same screen, promising an answer today, but when? Yesterday, they posted at 7:10 a.m. Refresh, refresh. 7:30, 7:45. Nothing new. Refresh. 8 a.m.: bingo!

Ed, they have it! Today, starting at 9! They just posted on Facebook!

Just enough time to feed the animals and water the pots outside. It's going to be a very hot day.

By 8:42 we are off, on our bikes, racing down the big hill, across the highway, over to Stoneman's Farm. 

Careful Ocean readers will have noted over the years that I love Stoneman's sweet corn. In the past, they'd start the harvest around July 20th and continue until Labor Day. This year the weather really played a nasty trick. If you planted after the April rains and if you did not have an irrigation system in place, your corn was not going to germinate in the drought that plagued us all May and April.  They replanted again and again, and crossed their fingers and still the weather was only partially on their side. It took this long for them to get their first solid batch of corn to the farm stand.

Is it the best in the world, most awesome corn you can find? Maybe. I mean, if you blind sampled Stoneman's against Natalie's, Tipi's, and maybe even Eugster's, you could pick it out if you are a knowledgeable consumer of corn, in the same way that you could pick out a Stradivarius if you are a knowledgeable violin person. But honestly, the differences between these top growers are tiny. Unless you serve your corn perfectly steamed, on a special plate all on its own, your corn eaters are not going to appreciate the delicate sweet kernels, that shot of sweetness in the mouth, the delightful taste of late summer lingering on your palate.

And still, for us aficionados, Stoneman's is not a false promise -- their corn is superb and we wait all year for it, and when the announcement comes that it has arrived, we rush to the Stoneman farm (thankfully, it's only a 15 minute bike ride down the road from the farmette), because we know within an hour it will be sold out. 

We haul away 18 ears. Ten to freeze (off the cob), eight to serve for dinner today and tomorrow, because, you know, us obsessive types will eat the corn within 24 hours of picking or it's not the same -- the sugars quickly begin to break down and turn to starch. So, same day is optimal. Second day is almost as good. Thereafter -- it's just corn.

Of course, Sotneman corn fans, nuts that we are about the corn, do also form  a community of people who like the whole routine of going down to the farm, of seeing the Stoneman kids play in the yard -- older ones helping collect the money, younger ones chasing the cats and dogs that live there.

We like the fact that it's a generational thing -- Stoneman started growing sweet corn 60 years ago. The grandson took over the operation and now the entire team of kids and grandkids seem to like each other as they work together -- picking, hand checking each ear, selling it to us within minutes of harvest.

It's an obsession, sure, but not only with eating/serving the world's most delicious corn. It's with the idea that people can still get along splendidly and come together, intergenerational, to share something they know is good and will bring smiles to us hungry corn lovers. Tell me that's not something to admire and love!

(we carry in our haul...)

Breakfast, on the porch.

Hot as it may be (especially in the afternoon), we still do want to put in our share of steps. Well, that's my bugaboo. You know, the watch goal: close those rings! We review our options.

Ed thinks it might be fun to return to Paoli and do a quick swim in the Sugar River water hole. I'm agreeable. We don't bike to Paoli this time. The goal is to get there, walk to the river, follow a trail we'd noticed before, and maybe check out the town's attractions. Paoli draws a bigger crowd on the weekend. Does it come alive in some fashion? We'll find out.

And I'll tell you right away, without any buildup or hesitation -- for us, the trip is a bust. The village is packed with visitors, not only because there's live music by the river and a small farmers market (of sorts) extending inland. It's especially crowded today because there is an art fair on their village square. Tents of art. Quilts, ceramics, paintings, metal sculpture -- you name it, it's there.

It's not that we object to art, or even that we don't like or value the stuff local artists display. It's that we are not buyers or browsers. And today, Paoli gives the impression that it's just one big shopping mall. We weave our way between tents, and walk in and out of the Paoli shops as well, and they, too, are full of trinket stuff. With perfumed interiors and shelf after shelf, counter after counter, table after table packed with things to display, some nice, some of questionable value, impressive in the sheer quantity of it, there for you to buy and take back home and forget about the next day. 

And the water hole? Well, there were kids at the shore, attempting (unsuccessfully) to catch fish and Ed decided it was too crowded to offer the tranquility that he likes so much in these more remote places.

And the path? We explored it, he picked up some burrs in his socks, I kept an eye out for ticks and then the path sort of ended in a thicket with nothing to show for it. A bust, I tell you.

Nor did our luck improve thereafter. On the way home, we stopped at another place we like to hike and we found the trail there too to be overgrown. Passable, sure, but offering the same burrs and sticky seeds for Ed's socks and tall grasses surely with ticks. So we turned back.

And as we drove home and listened to the radio, I said, quite truthfully, that this has been an exceptionally wonderful afternoon, because, well, it was just that. Adventuring with Ed brings its spectacular rewards and not a small number of busts and dead ends, but it's always peaceful and beautiful and fun.

(evening, at the farmette...)

with love...