Pick a Bale of Cotton

Oh, the life of a farmer. The ups and downs. The hopes and dreams. The weather and climate.

Oh but it's so beautiful, that cotton. I even love the smell of it, which could very well be the defoliating chemicals, but I don't care. It's cotton. The fabric of our lives.

Seriously, it really does make up the fabric of our life, especially right now. My husband's head is spinning. He's jumping down, turning around, and picking those bales of cotton. And I'm waiting here, smiling and being supportive, while doing all the other million things I'm trying to do with my life. 
It's a busy time for us. 
Thank goodness I'm hitting that peak that all the former pregnant ladies keep telling me about. 

Moon over cotton. Looks like a painting.


As happy as a farmer at harvest time...
All that hard work finally paying off--there is no better feeling. 

Meanwhile, I'm walking around, wearing a cotton nightgown, barefoot and pregnant. 
And for some reason, craving pecans. 
Weird craving, but maybe not that weird, since I can go out there to see if any have fallen. 

We're country folks, and I love it! 

(Okay, I'll be honest--it's pralines I crave, okay? Or cinnamon sugar pecans. You happy?) 
If you're getting some hard work done right now, know the feeling of having it done, of the payoff. 
The harvest.

That's all there is to say this Saturday morning. That's all folks. 

Softly,
Liza Jane