Ambrosia, Pink Lady, and Honey Crisp flaunt ruby as harvest apples appear. Stacked ears of corn on the cob await shucking, boiling, salt & butter, then the chattering-smile of front teeth. Cleaning the cob a row at a time will probably need a toothpick or a fingernail. When the tooth fairy got my front teeth at the age of six, my mom would cut the corn from the cob with a sharp knife. She called them boxcars because the strips of kernels resembled a train. Mom has been gone for decades, but her loving nearness is as fresh as this late summer's end.