The result is a field full of straw, leaves and red corn cobs. It almost seems wasteful, all that plant material left behind, but it all gets plowed into the soil for next year's crop.
All that tall corn had given us an extra measure of privacy; now that it's gone, the place feels naked and exposed.
The harvest seems to have freaked out the grasshoppers. They're all acting really odd, almost like they have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or something. You can practically step on them and they won't move. I suppose you'd freak too if a giant machine came along and tore apart your world.