Oh, the corn... THE CORN

It may be a shock to some, but I did not grow up in Toronto (shocked cries of "No!" come from everywhere, but I assue you that it is indeed true). I grew up in a large city, true, but one that is surrounded by farmland (fantastic Farmer's Markets, though).

As such, I find myself measuring the summer's progression by the height of the corn. No corns or wee little shoots means the summer has hardly begun.

When the corn is taller than most adult males, the summer is usually on its last legs. When the corn is harvested, and the field is barren with only a few remnant dried husks, the fields are ready for winter. Fall will be upon us by then.

This year, the weather has been nothing short of odd -- blisteringly hot, punctuated by unusually cool and grey periods lasting up to a week.

It was much to my horror, as Chris and I drove up north this past weekend (north of Toronto and Barrie, but nothing as far as North Bay -- the so-called gateway to Northern Ontario) that I noticed that the corn was already two feet (or more -- argh!) tall.

Someone please tell me that corn was planted early in some parts. I can't bear to think the summer is actually half over.

It mustn't be. I refuse to acknowledge it.

I simply have not saved enough to escaped to warmer climes for the winter.

Next Wednesday, I leave for Nova Scotia for two weeks. When I return, it will be August.

I pray I can save enough for Thailand... November will be far more bearable spent in warm parts of Asia.

Winter sucks. Sucks, I say.