By Carroll Smith
Cotton Farming
A cold front blew through yesterday, chasing off clouds in the overcast sky and replacing them with sunshine and a crispy nip in the air. It was as if the stars had aligned just right on the first day of fall. October has always been my favorite time of the year.
One of my fondest memories is going out to the farm with my dad early in the morning. He stood at the edge of the field and smiled as he looked out over the open cotton. To me, it seemed the lines on his face were not as deep and his demeanor was more relaxed than it had been during the hectic months leading up to harvest.
The strong smell of defoliant that had permeated the area in the weeks before had drifted away. Now he was waiting for the dew to dry before signaling the pickers to crank up and move into the field to start gathering the crop he had worked so hard to bring to fruition.