Rain Dance

Summer has danced into the South on the winds of perfectly spaced Spring thunderstorms, but every wise farmer knows drier days are waiting in the wings hoping to steal the show. Though cotton thrives in the scorching temperatures of the Missouri Bootheel, it thirsts for the cool fresh water that once covered the region in swamps and still flows far beneath the surface of the fertile soil. The farmer seeks to pull the drink from below to the parched plants on the surface of the land by stretching an oversized water hose of polypipe from one end of the field to the other. Dark clouds begin to swirl in the sky above. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Lightening flashes a few miles to the East. Giant raindrops plop sporadically to the ground. A cool breeze blows away the heat of the day...And a magnificent rainbow appears overhead. The work is completed in the perfection of grace amid the dancing laughter of giddy young farmhands enjoying the cool wet fruit of their labor.

The spectacular show of nature is enough to make one wonder if, perhaps, God is amused by the farmer's attempt to create rain from the dust of the Earth.

Sparks Fly

Sometimes we all need to blow off a little steam....And maybe a few sparks...Let out a giddy scream amid an echoing chorus of firecrackers...Watch our worries float away on the wings of a paper lantern...Melt our cares in the heat of a sparkling wand of flames. The farm family fills up on the fun of rising flames, and soaks up the beauty of a vivid display of colors set against the backdrop of a fading summer sun.

Sparks fly in July between little country boys and their first true love...colored flames dancing at dusk.

Life and Death

There is a death that speaks of life....A life that tells the story of death. A picture of a summer cotton field whispers a thousand promises for a bountiful harvest....but only after it tells a tale of life and death. Where pure white fruit is cultivated by the farmer, a dark thief enters in....quietly, but, oh so quickly....hoping to steal life. To tower high above the plant and strip away the sunlight. To dig deep below the roots and whisk away the water. To take away the fruit of harvest and replace it with the curse of future weeds.

Each year, a story of life and death unfolds.....The chapters change....But the harvest writes the book.

Summer Snow

Like giant snowflakes hurled to the ground by a blizzard of wind, the lightest dusting of pure white covers sandy beds of soil. Summer snow. Nitrogen rich pellets of life give nourishment to hungry stalks of cotton. A mid-summer dream come true.....for the quickly growing plants at least. Over the next few days, they will drink in a vivid green color and add abundance to their already hardy growth of leaves and limbs.

Cotton, the queen of southern crops, absolutely refuses to clothe herself in perfect white splendor until she's been properly fed.

Leftover Creations

Tiny garden shears snip the lanky arms of new Spring growth on leftover Fall Chrysanthemums, and a small bouquet of greenery is collected. The wounded arms, near death by all accounts, take a quick dip in a nourishing bath of liquid fertilizer before being gently poked into waiting pods of soil. Patience and diligence ensue. The end of Spring passes amid daily doses of sunshine and carefully monitored sprinkles of food and water. The pods of soil become pots of fresh dirt and nutrition. The cuttings, no longer leftovers, have become new creations.....Fall Chrysanthemums.

With a little more patience and diligence, beautifully rounded balls of brightly colored blooms will become the perfect contrast to fields of white around the farmer's home at Harvest.

Atop the Row

As the ever lengthening days and the toasty warmth of the shining sun breathe life into the smallest sprout of cotton, other lives are cultivated beneath the shade of her tiny leaves. Atop the row, safe from the crushing tires of the farmer's steely steed, rests the promise of birth. Two beautifully speckled eggs lay snug in a makeshift nest of dirt and rocks and what remains of last year's stalks.

The tractor, on a mission, quickly passes amid brave squawks and fleeing feathers....the eggs remain unharmed, and momma returns undaunted to her post.

War on Weeds

Like tiny soldiers standing at attention, endless rows of cotton plants have risen up out the Earth, ready to serve the farmer. The chemically engineered plants, like sci-fi heroes, have been well equipped to resist the ever present armies of insects for the time being. The real war in this field will be fought against the curse of thorns and thistles that has been on the ground since the dawn of time. The war on weeds begins with an aeriel attack. The farmer flies through the field on his trusty tractor with a hooded sprayer in tow assuring that all the chemicals fall exactly where they're needed most. Instantly, it seems the weeds begin to wilt in the mid-day heat. But will it be enough to assure victory?

Only time will tell the outcome of the first battle, but plans are already being drawn up for the next attack, because this is a fight to the death....