WE DIDN’T NEED A SCARECROW
I’ve shucked a lot of corn. When I was growing up, a good portion of our garden was always devoted to growing sweet corn. We ate it, froze it, and gave most of it away. I can say without exaggeration that our corn never had bugs. Not a single ear. I’d like to take credit for that, but it was my dad who knew the secret. I just applied it.
You see, every single silky hair on an ear of corn is attached to an individual kernel. The hairs are called silks; they’re part of the fertilizing system. The silks on the corn my dad grew were a greenish-yellow in the beginning, and turned crispy brown when the ear was ripe. Bugs used the silks to get inside the husks.
As the oldest child, I was given the responsibility to ensure that our corn was always bug free. I was seven years old, maybe eight. My dad knew that during the corn’s growing season there would be a two- to three-week window during the summer when some varmint would show up on the silks and worm its way into the milky kernels.
Many days during that window I would rise at 6 a.m. My dad would give me a two-inch paint brush and an empty soup can he’d just filled with castor oil from the pharmacy on the Naval Base where he was stationed. I’d spend what seemed like forever walking up and down the rows of corn, both sides, painting the silks of every ear with my dad’s secret ingredient. The varmints couldn’t get past the thick, sticky, yellow goop.
I never thought of our corn as a person but the idea didn’t seem all that far-fetched after seeing the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz. Decades later, when Wicked gave the world a new ending for the scarecrow, I recognized the influence of John Barleycorn.
JOHN BARLEYCORN MUST DIE
The tale of Sir John Barleycorn is gritty. If you forget that John and his equally famous Corn King are not human, the tale goes beyond gritty to gruesome. So before you read further, know that John Barleycorn is an analogy for an agricultural figure who willingly sacrifices himself at the harvest to keep people from starving when winter overtakes the land.
Four hundred years ago the Stationers’ Register in London first recorded lyrics written by a Scotsman, Robert Burns, to John Barley-Corne Must Die. Burns described it as “A pleasant new ballad to sing both even (evening) and morn (morning) of the bloody murther (murder) of Sir John Barley-corne.”
Evidence suggests Burns may have reworked a much older poem. To me, that only goes to prove that the harvest season meant more than festivals.
The ballad is a clever way of describing the process of planting, growing, harvesting, and brewing that transforms barley to beer and whiskey. I think the violent language of the song suggests another purpose to telling this particular tale at this particular time of the year.
According to the ballad, the process begins when the farmer notices that the barley’s head droops and his joints bend. For the barley to fulfill its purpose of becoming beer or whiskey, it must be cut down.
Farmers are instructed to use a long, sharp weapon, cut Sir John by the knees, truss him up and tie him to a wagon.Then lay him on his back and beat him. Then throw him in a pit of water up to his neck. Sink or swim, Sir John! Nearly drowned, beat him again. Now pass the marrow of his bones over scorching flames. And then, worst of all, give him to the miller who crushes him between two stones.
As the tale goes:
…And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.
John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise;
For if you do but taste his blood,
‘Twill make your courage rise.
‘Twill make a man forget his woe;
‘Twill heighten all his joy …
WINTER ON THE HORIZON
Back in the day, if you lived by the land you knew that the harvest season meant winter was on the horizon. You’d harvest grains, fruits, vegetables, and, finally, cull the livestock you wouldn’t be able to feed.
You knew it wouldn’t be long before frost, snow, ice and freezing temperatures would kill whatever you hadn’t dried, salted, fermented, or stored underground. You knew that the weakest among you – the very young, the very old, and the sick – might succumb. You knew how the Wolf Moon of February got its name.
You didn’t call it “mindset” back then but you knew how vital it was to have faith that you would survive – not by chance but by your physical strength, your emotional resilience, your creative ways to stretch food and to keep warm. You might control with violence but you could inspire with a story. You needed a hero.
Who better than Sir John Barleycorn himself? After all that was done to him, come spring he always rose again, strong and virile, knowing the life he had willingly sacrificed was for the good of his community. The story of sacrifice, death, descent, and resurrection has inspired many a tale.
Who are the heroes, helpers, guides, Obi-Wans in your life? Why do we look for them now? That’s a topic I explore in the next newsletter. Be sure to add your email to my list. There’s a little form at the end of this post.
RITUAL RECIPE: Food for the Harvest Moon
When I think of the harvest season, I immediately think of the Harvest Moon. That’s the full moon closest to the Autumnal Equinox. This year, 2026, the Equinox occurs on September 22, when the Sun enters zero degrees of Libra. In the United States, the closest Full Moon will occur on Saturday, September 26, making it the Harvest Moon.
The Harvest Moon will be in the adventurous, independent, physical sign of Aries. The Sun will be in the diplomatic, balance-seeking, intellectual sign of Libra. Our job, each one of us, is to find a way for those two competing energies to collaborate. An easy way to align with the energy of any moon is through a food ritual, ideal for a Harvest Moon.
Begin with the simple structure of a ritual: a visible act performed with invisible intent.
For this ritual, the invisible intent is to experience harmony by having the hot fire of Aries collaborate with the cool air of Libra. For the visible act, combine competing foods in an appetizing way. Add cold sour cream to a bowl of hot chili. Serve curried chicken with cucumbers. Toss cool-season peas with hot-season sunflower seeds. Spoon red pepper jelly on vanilla ice cream. Such simple measures can make us aware of ways to create harmony.
When it’s harvest season in your part of the world, do you go to harvest fairs? Eagerly await pumpkin spice drinks? Make a scarecrow? Pull your favorite mug from the back of the cabinet? Gather for a Harvest Moon ritual? Let me know! Email: Zita@ZitaChristian.com
Finally, however you experience the harvest season, may you find support for your efforts, a yield worth your efforts, and wisdom from your efforts.
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