Every time I look at the picture of that corn, I think about the seven thin heads of grain in Pharaoh’s dream
These were my corn from last year. Every time I look at this photo, I think about the seven thin heads of grain in Pharaoh’s dream. I mean, look at them! They were so skinny you would think the seven years of famine had already started in my backyard. Although mine were green. What a consolation!
I had watched the stalks
grow and hoped for the kind of full, generous ears that make a gardener feel
very accomplished. Instead, these narrow little things appeared. They did not
exactly look like a great harvest was hiding inside them. But my thin-ny little
corn surprised me. When I finally opened them, they gave me a pretty decent
harvest after all.
I intentionally left the ears on the stalk a little longer because I was not looking for the very tender, sweet corn usually sold here. I wanted the mature Naija corn I grew up eating; the firmer kind that gives your teeth something to do and tastes especially good beside ube, the Nigerian butter fruit. By harvest time, the kernels were less sweet, more substantial, and much closer to what I remembered.
No ube was available,
but thank God for coconut! I sat with my corn and coconut, and the combination
did what familiar food often does: it opened a door. A bite, a smell, and a
texture transported me to places, people, seasons, and little moments from childhood
that I had not consciously visited in years.
That is one of the gifts of growing food connected to your culture. You are not simply harvesting vegetables. Sometimes you are harvesting memory. A plant growing in Oklahoma can reach across oceans and bring Eastern Nigeria close enough to taste.
No plane ticket. No passport. No luggage. Just seven skinny corn and some coconut, and I was back home for a little while.
Garden & Reflections offers a glimpse into the experiences
and everyday lessons that shape me beyond the therapy room. These personal
reflections are shared thoughtfully while honoring the professional boundaries
of the counseling relationship.