5" x 5"
When I was a child, my brothers and sisters and I would occasionally find ourselves on a Sunday afternoon drive through the hilly southern Indiana countryside.
In the summer time all roads led to corn fields. My parents would comment on the progress of the crop. Was it a good year or not. My dad's judgment was that corn should stand knee high by the fourth of July.
It was not until I moved back to my native Indiana as an adult that I appreciated corn. It was then that I was able to notice the rolling waves created by a breeze or hear the rustle as the air passes through the corn. It reminded me of a green ocean.
