Growing up on a farm, we had a sizable vegetable garden, overseen by my grandfather. I remember going out and seeing the small plants as they pushed out like little fists out of the dirt. And so I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw something on my morning walk to the train station - something was there that I had not seen in years. A corn plant. Why it was there, I can only guess. This is a popular trash spot and probably the corn kernels had fallen out of a garbage bag, or possibly off of a discarded corn cob from a barbecue.
Over the past three weeks, these two plants have grown and strengthened. They look vibrant and defiant on this street that sees more decay than prosperity. Every day I cannot wait to round the corner and see how much taller they have grown and marvel that no one has desecrated them. The true test will be when the corn grows in. Every day they remain, I feel my optimism growing. I snapped these pictures on this rainy Friday as I ran for my train on a morning that had many false starts. Yet I still needed to stop and appreciate these two. A strand of tissue had wrapped itself around one plant and I plucked it off. In the one picture you can see this in the background. And if you look slightly above this, you will also see a metrocard. That is mine. I arrived at the station and realized it was missing, wondered when I could have dropped it. It was only after I arrived at work and opened the photos that I realized when it had wriggled out of my shirt pocket. On a little sidewalk stands two unfurling fists, eventually to hold corn in their palms to whoever lays claim to it. If it were any other corner, I would not expect to find my metrocard when I return home tonight. But I am feeling optimistic. Matt