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Oh, corn.

My corn. How I carefully dropped your seeds. How I interspersed your promise with pole bean seeds to twine upon your stalks.

Because everyone needs a friend.
Oh, corn, how I spotted your first green shoots. How I eagerly watched you grow. How I enjoyed the view of your strong stalks burgeoning forth. How I anticipated the first taste of your sweetness.
And then came the storm yesterday afternoon.

Thunder broke hard right over our heads. Rain pounded, brutal in its random violence.

Oh, corn, how I loved you! And how, oh how, I will miss you.

We should all have such a cute butt.
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
No Sugar in These Honey Muffins
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Be a part of something big.
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"Cookies are good." Read my barnyard stories....
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