Friday my plans got sidetracked, so I went down south with Carey on a very important day trip. Once we were done with the important stuff, we took a little tour around our old stomping grounds.
For years, every time I visit around this time of year, I wish I could take pics of the cotton crops sitting in the field waiting to be picked. This time I actually had the camera with me, and I even had a cooperative driver. But I'm still wishing I could have another chance at it. The sun was SO bright, it was difficult to tell what I was actually getting; and it was SO HOT that I just couldn't bear it for more than a few minutes. Our trusty old truck even started overheating, so one chance was all I was allowed.
These photos were taken in a field that had already been sprayed with defoliant. Most of the fields had already been picked. Huge truck-size bales (modules) sat covered in the fields, waiting for completion and delivery to the gin. The highways are all edged with white fluff that has flown off of trucks. It always seemed like such a shame that it goes to waste. My mother said that when she was young, families would walk along the roads and pick up the cotton that had fallen and sell it to the gin.
I love how the open bolls look like flowers.
Okay, Mr. Sun. You've helped the cotton burst forth. It's time to cool things down a little.
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