Children picking cotton in the South

Children picking cotton in the South

While this is not a photo of my childhood, it could have been.  My brothers and I wore various kind of pin-on sacks until we graduated to a bona fide cotton sack.  As I have mentioned before, picking cotton is a wretched way to earn an income.  I picked to have money to buy clothes for back to school.  My mom and I would go fabric shopping in a bigger town and come home with 5 or 6 carefully folded pieces of fabric for dresses, shirts and skirts.  I always felt proud when that happened but during the process I loathed every minute of it.  It was hot, boring and I felt pressure to always to do better, pick faster, pick more.

I was out this morning in the snow and ice and smiled at remembering those hot, sweaty days.  I promised myself I would never complain about being too cold.  Ever.  I almost broke that promise this morning while I was out and about in the snow, ice and wind.  So, I came home-turned on the fireplace (note I did not say “chopped up some wood for the fireplace”) made some herbal tea and put on a sweatshirt.

Picture this:

Gone with the Wind-Scarlett has scratched her hands through the dirt and declares: “As God is my witness, as God is my witness, they’re not going to lick me! I’m going to live through this, and when it’s all over, I’ll never be hungry again.”

Now Picture This

8 year old Bonnie-dragging her little cotton sack in the hot Arkansas sun:  “As God is my witness, as God is my witness, they’re not going to lick me!  I’m going to live through this, and when it’s all over, I’ll never be hot and sweaty again.”

Stay warm : )  Do you love the beauty and wonder of winter, or would you rather be on a beach soaking up the rays?

YOUR TURN   What is the hardest thing you have ever had to do?