Thursday, August 6, 2009


It was from this home that I have my first recollection of joining Mother and my sisters in picking cotton. Across the dirt road from the home was the cotton field spread out as far as little eyes could see. Big eyes could see more clearly and distinctly, keeping an eye on the task at hand but also checking back at the house where children might be at work or play – mostly the latter. Early in the mornings we would suit up in our bonnets and sling over our shoulder our little cotton picking bags Grandma had made for us and cross the road into the field for the day of work. A sheet would be spread on the ground between the rows to catch our pickings and we would frequently return to it to empty our little bags. We would pick and empty – pick and empty; that's how our day would go. When little hands and feet grew tired we sisters would refresh ourselves by sitting on the sheet and making beautiful hair-dos, tightly winding cotton boles around a stick to form lovely white curls, arranging them into head shapes and laying them out on the sheet for all to see. At the end of the day the sheet would be gathered up and taken to the scales back at the tenant farmer's house for weighing in. Each day's pickings were tallied and credited to Mother's account to pay the rent and provide for our needs. FAMILY – CONSIDER IT ALL JOY