It's that time of year again--it's time for corning.
When you live in an agricultural region, kids find ways to amuse themselves, ways city kids would never imagine. You can get some laughs over tipping a cow, although you have to go out of your way to get to a sleepy one who just happens to be standing in a field near the road. You can wander through a corn maze, if a local farmer has been kind enough to construct one in his field. You can steal agricultural signs--Daughter No. 1 came home with a huge one that had advertised corn planted in some man's field. Or you can go corning.
Corn is easy to come by this time of year. You know the phrase, "knee high by the fourth of July," which is a general rule for how corn grows? Well, by October it has been cut and sold, and dried corn kernels abound. They are easy to come by and easy to carry. For a good corning, all you really need is a pocket full. You fill your pants with corn, sneak up to someone's front door, and let it fly. The sound of dried corn hitting a hard wood door, or a metal one even better, is like a pellet gun firing away at a piece of sheet metal. From the outside, it sounds like pellets, but from the inside, it sounds like your house is being attacked by marbles.
I'm not sure how or when kids figured it out that corning is fun. Who figured out that throwing dried corn at someone's front door would be good for laughs. But now that the truth is out, there is no way to put it back. Kids will forever go corning.
Fortunately, my current house is set back from the street, so my house is less likely to be corned, but my previous house was just a few yards from the street and not far from a corn field. My poor house was attacked by marbles nearly every day after school let out. Punks.
A friend of mine has taken it personally, not being from here and not knowing that anyone and everyone is susceptible to corning. I explained that it isn't a personal message sent to her from the local miscreants. It's just a way to pass the time. In my day, we rang door bells late at night and ran away into the shadows. It was annoying to the homeowner, but at least they never had to sweep up a pile of corn.
When you live in an agricultural region, kids find ways to amuse themselves, ways city kids would never imagine. You can get some laughs over tipping a cow, although you have to go out of your way to get to a sleepy one who just happens to be standing in a field near the road. You can wander through a corn maze, if a local farmer has been kind enough to construct one in his field. You can steal agricultural signs--Daughter No. 1 came home with a huge one that had advertised corn planted in some man's field. Or you can go corning.
Corn is easy to come by this time of year. You know the phrase, "knee high by the fourth of July," which is a general rule for how corn grows? Well, by October it has been cut and sold, and dried corn kernels abound. They are easy to come by and easy to carry. For a good corning, all you really need is a pocket full. You fill your pants with corn, sneak up to someone's front door, and let it fly. The sound of dried corn hitting a hard wood door, or a metal one even better, is like a pellet gun firing away at a piece of sheet metal. From the outside, it sounds like pellets, but from the inside, it sounds like your house is being attacked by marbles.
I'm not sure how or when kids figured it out that corning is fun. Who figured out that throwing dried corn at someone's front door would be good for laughs. But now that the truth is out, there is no way to put it back. Kids will forever go corning.
Fortunately, my current house is set back from the street, so my house is less likely to be corned, but my previous house was just a few yards from the street and not far from a corn field. My poor house was attacked by marbles nearly every day after school let out. Punks.
A friend of mine has taken it personally, not being from here and not knowing that anyone and everyone is susceptible to corning. I explained that it isn't a personal message sent to her from the local miscreants. It's just a way to pass the time. In my day, we rang door bells late at night and ran away into the shadows. It was annoying to the homeowner, but at least they never had to sweep up a pile of corn.
Comments
Not at your delinquent antics, but at the unfortunate phrase "fill your pants with corn", which over here means something quite different.
And the thought of then sneaking up to someone's front door and letting fly is beyond icky!
Heeheeheeheehee …
Speaking of knocking on doors and running my mother tried that when I was 16. She'd been to a new years eve party - her first ever I think - and was just a little bit pissed. Way after midnight she decided to go for a walk and took me along. She went all teenage and visited all of the kids houses in the neighbourhood she didn't like and played knock and run - knocking on doors in the dead of night and then running. What gave her away was the party dress and the screaming like a teenager as she ran away.
Time to introduce everyone to my new hobby.....