"The corn is knee-high by the Fourth of July" the saying had it when I was a boy. But, then, that was a time when we sang, "We are from I-o-way, I-o-way, that's where the tall corn grows." We subsequently came to realize that, to the extent "size matters," it is the size of the corn cob -- and the number and weight of the kernels -- not the size of the stalk that matters.
This year, more for the nostalgia than for the corn -- corn which, if it ever appears will undoubtedly be taken by raccoons rather than by me -- I have planted a "corn field" in my front yard. The picture, above, is something of an ant's-eye-view of my crop.
As it happens, while it is only three weeks old, shaded by a large pine tree and has very little sun, it has actually reached "knee high by the fourth of July" -- but only if one helps the leaves reach their full height -- as demonstrated in the picture below. (Of course, if you would help a dachshund's ears reach their full height the dog would also be "knee high.")
Curious as to what reminded me of this possibility (pulling up corn, if not by its ears, at least by its leaves)? Here's a clue from my former boss:
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