While driving through Northeast Mississippi this morning, I pulled over to the side of the road at a cotton field, got out and walked around, taking a few photos, including this one of a boll of cotton. When I was growing up in this area, there were cotton fields just about everywhere. It was one of the major sources of income. Not so much, now. But being there brought back a lot of memories. Both of my parents grew up on farms in this area and they both picked their share of cotton. And, although I grew up in town and never lived on a farm, when we were still just young kids, my Mom wanted me and my brother to experience what it was like to pick cotton by hand. Using some old cloth flour sacks, she made each of us a cotton "pick sack." She drove us to a friend's farm out in the country and let us each pick a row of cotton. We only picked one row each, but it was enough that I can say that I have actually picked cotton by hand. (Most cotton is picked by machine today.) Believe me, it wasn't fun! The husks on the cotton boll are sharp and easily cut into your hands when you try to pull the cotton out of the boll. By the time I reached the end of my short row, my fingers were beginning to bleed. I will always remember that experience, but I have never had the desire to pick cotton again!