One of the experiences most every farm boy has is the daily chore of bringing up the cows on a frosty morning when, sans shoes, the boys trudge out into the cow yard and hop scotch between cow berths where the grass is still warm and, in rare instances, step carefully but swiftly between steaming cow piles to warm up their feet.
Last fall during com picking time, the better appearing ears were tossed into a box on the side of the wagon, and later struck onto wire racks and hung in the haymow to dry. Now these are brought down and each ear is given a number. Three grains are pried out with a jack knife, and placed on a numbered cloth that will be moistened and stored in a dark, warm place for a week. Only those ears that have two or three grains showing sprouts are used for seed. All of the misshapen tip and butt grains are then shelled off by hand before running the ears through the hand corn sheller. This is because our new John Deere planter has plates that take only the flat grains.
Spring time is mushroom time. A huge platter of deep fried fungi is indeed a meal fit for a king. The big lies that fishermen are noted for pale into insignificance when two or more mush roomers get together. No hidden trove of treasure is guarded more zealously than the location of a bed of Morel mushrooms. Even a devoted family man, a man who would never think of lying to his wife or kicking the family dog, becomes an unbelievable bore every spring, should he be a dedicated mush roomer.