The Day I Heard the Corn Grow

Finding Magic in Quiet Moments

As a kid, I grew up on a big dairy farm in a very rural area.

Generally, I hopped out of bed at 5:00 AM, grabbed my dad’s calloused hand, and together we crossed the driveway to the barn where the cows waited to be milked.

After breakfast, my siblings and I were given a list of chores to be completed. Often, I would finish early and then head out to explore the woods and fields of our property.

As one of eleven kids, I often sought solitude to think, read, or study the landscape.

Sometimes, I would spend the time exploring the caves in the woods. Other times, I would dig in the creek looking for crayfish and snails.

One hot, humid August afternoon, I felt a suffocating need to be alone. My brothers were annoying me, and my little sister, who is ten years younger than I, had gotten into my nail polish and spilled it on the dresser, making my mom angry with me.

When no one was looking, I slipped on my boots and headed out toward the woods, but soon heard my brothers yelling as they fired up the tractor and drove toward me.

Hoping they hadn’t seen me, I ducked into the cornfield along the lane, slinking quietly to the center of the field.

When the sound of the tractor and my brothers’ rowdy voices began fading, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Lying on my back on the hard ground, I stared up at the clouds moving through the sky over the tasseled corn and listened hard for the birds in the distance whose chirping was nearly drowned out by the cacophonous hum of locusts.

With my eyes closed, I suddenly detected a sound I couldn’t immediately identify. I sat up, tipping my head to listen closer.

There it was again. If I had to label the sound, I would call it thousands of potato chips breaking, creating a low, thundering crackle.

I listened closer, my attention hyper-focused.

Pulling myself up, I brushed the dirt off my shorts and leaned into what seemed to be the source of the sound—the stalk.

My heart began to pound with excitement. The crackle of the stalk was unmistakable.

“I think I am hearing the corn grow!” I said in wonder.

I closed my eyes to listen more closely. I had never heard anything so magical.

The moment runs like a loop in my memory. Even today, when I drive by a cornfield on a hot August day, I am tempted to hop out of my car and duck into the field to once more hear that beautiful song—the most enchanting sound I have ever heard.

Magic is everywhere. You may find it in the far-off call of a bird, an engine fading into the distance, tires whirring on a distant highway, the snore of the dog in an adjoining room, or the cooing of a child.

Turn off your phone. Tune in. Listen for the magic. Find the joy wherever you can.

Life is short. Enjoy every moment.