Remember the pain when those boll-points would run up under the cuticle of your fingers? I would try to keep up with Mammy Rose, who would be picking two rows at a time. I would always fall behind and get lonely and cry out to her and she would pick my row too until I caught up with her. She was the great love of my childhood.
Remember the pain when those boll-points would run up under the cuticle of your fingers? My mothers hands would be a bloody mess but she would go home and do every thing a mother and wife did in those days. Cotton picking sacks were sold in feet, 10,12, 16 and so forth. Some of them could hold near a hundred pounds. One of my first "real" jobs was flagging for a crop duster when DDT and the others were new. LOL