On Monday, I returned to a local farm a few miles down the road to finish photos for my article on “Corn” (see below.) Last year, traveling across I-80, I commented on the 1400 miles of cornfields from Nebraska east. This farm is not like those farms. This farm is family-owned by the last full-time vegetable growers in Belmont County. Three generations have made their livings from these farms, and the three sons in the fourth generation are pursuing other types of employment in other places.

On this farm 120 cornfields sprawl along the rolling Appalachian foothills, all hand planted and hand- picked. I was alone under the mid-morning sun. A cooler than normal breeze set the stalks rustling. Bugs hopped and hummed among the wild flowers and grasses. In the far distance, on another farm, the low sound of a tractor. I paused after shooting the corn image.

The sun, the breeze, the sounds, the peace surrounded me. It’s a rare moment anymore when I don’t quickly get on to the next task, the next place. This was different. I was happy. I was calm. This was an oasis away from everything else. I wanted to stay, longed to stay, in fact. I thought to myself, “I could set up a chair and an umbrella and sit and listen for hours, for the rest of the day.” Just the sun, the breeze, the sounds, the peace.