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.