Hope everyone is up and have your “cotton picking” pants on.
Isn’t it amazing when a smell can jar a memory?
This morning while walking, I smelt a memory of years long ago. Back to childhood. The smell of dew on cotton.
The best time to pick cotton was early in the morning while the dew was still on the cotton. This meant a heavier weigh out in the afternoon. That’s what my Dad would say, and I believed my Daddy. If you were a cotton picker, you know this is true.
I can hear my Daddy say, “I will help you catch up.” The rows were long, the sun would beat down, but there was work to be done. (My Daddy could pick some cotton.)
I hope today you have a smell that jars your memory of years long gone.
I can imagine what children would say today if their parents told them it was time to head to the cotton field.