The first time i saw cotton(I'm from Maine living in North Carolina)...it looked like snow, so i call it
Southern snow....a field of it, is just sooo beautiful.
Up close it looks so much like you can just pick it and use it as cotton balls. The texture is a bit different, but i don't think it is processed very much, cleaned and steamed....maybe. another research project for another day.
I think of this marvel of nature and all it's uses; I can't get that song out of my mind...(In the Land of Cotton, old times there are not forgotten) this should be my mantra for the rest of the year. It is the fabric of our lives(just in case you have that tune in your head).
My Mom called last night and we discussed our favorite Thanksgiving moments. The dancing and the singing....my father's family had the music gene, my grandfather played drums was in a famous band back in the 1920's, his Mom and sister both played piano and he guitar. The memories of
those who would only eat pickles and bread. The good times of family and the wonderful magic
of bringing it all together, was my Mom. Mom's side came when they could, they lived out of state, New Hampshire.
The cotton is being harvested now, but i love how it stops and makes me reflect. We can pass the memories on and weave the magic of our ancestry. I think of my children as quilts, some days they look like so n' so and other days, like my husband or me.
So, this year, on Thanksgiving, remember those who are no longer with us and weave wonderful magic, by talking about a quality they shared or passed down.