Shimmering Champagne

Much too close on the heels of a later than usual harvest, the deathly pale beauty of winter arrives fashionable early in a swirling dress of brilliant white. 

 

 

Cotton stalks still standing in the farmer's fields are lavishly drenched with shimmering champagne crystals giving the appearance of a harvest celebration that has carried over into the dead of winter.

 

 

 

 

On the end of a row where the massive picker missed an opened boll at harvest, perfect locks of pure white cotton covered in crystal clear ice give a nod to what could have been, but thankfully wasn't.

 

 

Even the straw-like grass of the ditchbank and the ordinary fence of the fencerow are transformed into snapshots of splendor when bathed in the extraordinary beauty that is winter's pure white gown of ice and snow.

 

 

 Winter has arrived on early on the farm.

 

Harvest Race

A green giant lumbering through the cotton field, the picker races the wind, the rain, and the ever-nearing woes of Winter. Albino fireflies of lint swarm around his monstrous frame wildly dancing on the cool breezes and brilliant beams of ever-changing light that follow him through his long days. The giant tortoise runs the Harvest Race with slow and steady precision leaving a vast graveyard of stalks in his wake. The wind and rain of seasonal storms run through the fields at lightening speed teasing him with their agility but eventually fall to the ground short of victory.

Weather slows the season but won't completely stop the patient progression of Harvest in the Missouri Bootheel.

Southern Snow

An endless wait through Spring's rain, Summer's sun and the always unpredictable nature of Fall. A quick prayer for grace and blessing. And, finally, the motor roars with a sound that could wake the dead or at least breathe new life into the nearly frozen field. Harvest has arrived. Later than usual, but perfectly timed to a breathtaking view of pure white southern snow. A vision to behold.

The scene that unfolds each year in the farmer's field is a picturesque lesson of the bountiful profit of patience and prayer.

Sleeping Beauty

As the Earth prepares for winter's slumber, she seeks to ward off the already present chill in the air with a blanket made entirely of leaves. Shaking gold and auburn bits of beauty from the limbs of already dozing trees with a cool and gentle breeze, she calls her offspring home. Leaves basking in the brilliant light of a quickly passing sun soak up their final days of warmth before falling to the ground like raindrops in the wind. There beneath the feet of passers-by their colors fade to brown, beauty sleeps and death becomes new life.

Through the winter months of muted tones the rich glory of Autumn lies hidden in the soil, sound asleep, but she will rise again like a Phoenix from the ashes as nourishment for the breathtaking wonders of Spring.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wind Blown

As the view of cotton bolls opening more each day becomes a treat for the eyes, nature plays a trick. With howling winds and chilly drizzle, she rains on the Halloween parade of ghostly trick or treaters dancing in the farmer's fields. And cotton dots the ground. The first day of a new month dawns on wind blown plants weary of standing in the midst of the seemingly ever changing seasons.

Half-full bolls proudly stand beside half-empty bolls, and each person will see the ones they choose to see.

Wintry Wardrobe

With the bulkiness of summer's foliage stripped from her graceful limbs, the cotton stands nearly naked for a time. Determined to clothe herself once more in stunning splendor, she quickly dons a wintry wardrobe of creamy perfection. Her ghostly pallor pops against the brown backdrop that covers the landscape in the wake of summers death.

The wooly white blanket of harvest beauty becomes the perfect complement to the cooler temperatures and shorter days of Fall.

Glory Rising

In the early morning hours as darkness fades to light, cotton candy like clouds rise above the farmer's fields. Blushing pink in the heavens like a bashful bride waiting patiently for her soundly sleeping husband to rouse from his slumber. Suddenly he appears just above the horizon. Barely awake, but already brilliant in his presence. The Rising Glory of her love paints the cotton with fiery flames of orange and red.

The masterpiece that fills the sky and paints the Earth beneath becomes a tribute to his undying love for his beloved bride.

Soggy Bottoms

The unwelcome sounds of rain and thunder herald the start of the harvest season. Day after day, dark clouds roll overhead and the thoroughly soaked ground begins to squish underfoot. The fragrant smell of freshly fallen water saturates the now crisply cooled air and the rain soaked cotton plants display slightly soggy bottoms. Cotton, only recently freed, droops dangerously low as if the too long seasons have left it weary of hanging onto life and impatient to be plucked from its prickly prison of husk.

The promise of harvest is given anew in the skies above as well as on the stalks below as the yet unopened bolls bask in the refreshingly brilliant skies that follow the clouds.

Change of Prayers

As one season begins, another fades away. Hues of orange and brown replace the green fields of summer. Final blooms of white whither and fall to the ground like unfinished works of art that never will become what they were meant to be. The cotton plants now boast all the bolls that they will bring into harvest. The need for water fades just as autumn showers begin to fall on already open tufts of cotton. The fickle nature of farming demands a change of prayers as picking season approaches.

The farmer rolls up the polypipe, closes up the wells, puts away the pumps, and hopes that heaven takes a cue and that nature's sprinkler system won't flood the fields with too much rain during the harvest.

Fresh Tracks

Two days after a final summer rain wiped the slate clean, the still moist Earth tells the tales of yesterday's adventures. A deer strolled through the edge of the cotton field in search, perhaps, of a soybean meal from the field next door. Coyotes snuck through a freshly disced watermelon field, in all likelihood, stalking dinner. A crane danced through the puddles near the edge of Buffalo ditch, and a bevy of birds gathered at a makeshift watering hole for refreshment.

Like a butterfly emerging from the darkness of a cocoon, beauty is always revealed after the rain, if not in the skies above, then on the Earth beneath.

White Diamonds

As Summer fades in the South, Harvest season approaches on slightly cooler winds of change. The once emerald green leaves of the cotton have lost their luster, turning rusty shades of orange and red. Dark chocolate spots cover the teardrop shaped bolls that remain unopened. And white diamonds have begun to sparkle on the very bottom branches of the plants. Fluffy newborn tufts of cotton rest on spiky husks of dried-up greenery turned brown by the labor of birthing such perfect beauty.

The beautiful bounty of Harvest is only just beginning. Soon the flawless snow of pure white gold will gently Fall, and pearly scenes of Harvest will stretch as far as the eye can see.