in them old cotton fields back home…

I was searching for travel stories & photos… a mental search mind you but a search none the less.  And to me, my whole life has been a trip.  And I think my general progression rates a post…. or maybe I should make it part of the about me page… hmmm… I’ll consider those ideas as I tap this out.

I grew up the child of urban parents who were raised by largely urban parents. If it weren’t for a family friend in ag journalism, I would have likely never found myself on a farm unless it was to pick my own strawberries or something.  There was a time when walking onto a farm was an unique experience and farmers the unknown.  I could hold my own driving along the interstate, but for some reason a dusty road threw me.

Yep, I was thoroughly a city kid.

Then I went to college in the middle of nowhere and started working for a friend of my mom’s family who published agricultural magazines.  Two rural connections at once!  I made my first visit to Walmart.  I found myself sharing rodes with tractors.  Yes, I even started learning what crops I was looking at.

As temperatures drop and football games begin dominating weekends and Monday morning coffee talk, my mind turns to cotton fields.  And a drive along an interstate may find me turning off to get a closer look.  Not only do I hit the country roads, but I can be find snaking through the turnrows.  From time to time, I find that utter isolation breaks and a pickup pulls up.  That’s when I realize whether it’s the streets of Memphis or a turnrow in the middle of nowhere, I feel at home — seems home is something I can take with me now even to places without towns, much less cities.