I Went to My First Corn Maze, and It Was A-maize-ing.

I have a now-secret life list, and one of the items on that list is to visit a corn maze.

I grew up primarily in cities, but both sides of my family, before my parents moved to the city, were farmers, and my family travelled north to Prince Albert National Park every summer, where I would pack sandwiches and disappear for hours by myself into the tamer edges of the woods. My heart and mind marry when I am surrounded by plant life and soil. I can't keep a houseplant alive for more than a couple of months, but drop me into a field, even one so manicured as a corn maze, and I become one.

I had the great honour of being invited along to this corn maze by Risa and her brilliant children, Gaia and Ever, and then we ran into Gaia's friend and her family, so we made a party of it. 

I wanted to wander quietly into the corn and lie down among the mushy, end-of-season cobs, just stare at the blue until the sun went down. I think the guy below was contemplating the same thing, because he stood out in the middle of the stalks and looked at the hills for a long time. I tracked his bald head as we wound around him.

But I couldn't run off across the prairie to become one with the earth, because kids! I almost never get to hang out with kids. Due to various issues of my own stemming from health and identity issues, I distanced myself from families with children for a number of years, but now I miss the drum of feet and sticky fingers and upturned faces and dramatic twists that I grew up with in a childhood home that doubled as a daycare. 

Kids are pretty cool.

Without kids around, I'm far less likely to do most of the following: we jumped on this giant, inflated tarp pillow, and we walked through the corn maze, and we went on a hayride,

and we watched the autumn sun slowly slant low over the fields,

and I dreamed about living in a hillside house painted red,

and I showed Ever how you can wave at each others' reflections in creeks,

and we pet a tiny horse,

and we let this sheep lick us after a happy neck rub. It turns out that being licked by an affectionate sheep is delightful.

I entertained the idea of sneaking off into the corn and going all unbathed wild woman living on berries and gophers for a few weeks, but I like a pillow when I sleep, and my skin breaks out if I don't use my Philosophy facial scrub, and I'm a cat lady who doesn't like to be away from her monsters, so I settled for a few last shots of pretty things on our way out to the car.

Plants dying in the middle of fall look more beautiful to me than new flowers in spring. There is something warm and established about them, no matter how ephemeral their crisp leaves and loosening seeds.

And that was my first time at a corn maze. It was a-maize-ing. Ba dum tsh.

Thank you, Risa, Gaia, and Ever!