It isn't really snow, of course, but looks a bit like it melting along the roadways in areas near gins and cotton fields. It is cotton. At places there are solid stacks of the white stuff along the roadways. It is a sign that the last of our summer crops are clearing the fields. First is the grain followed by cotton. By Labor Day most of the cotton is either in stacks covered with colored tarps or it is sitting in rows near a gin. I haven't heard the results but think the crops were good this year. None too soon after two disasterous years in a row.
Windfarms are kicking in, with their giant blades slowing turning and supplying current to some far away places. As I drive toward Taft the towers get in alignment and make it appear that two windmills are tangled with each other. Others stand aloof and alone, it appears. This is all a strange new portrait on what used to be level fields of blackland soil.
Some chose to leave their farms as it always had been, refusing the generous offers of leasing land and building roads in some of the best soil in the country. I salute those who did not go for the extra dollars so generously offered. Time will tell who made the wisest decisions. I do know this, the countryside view is forever changed.
Taft has had as their slogan, "The Friendliest Cotton Pickin' Town In Texas". I know that fitted when we made our home there in the sixties, and again in the eighties and nineties. I am not so sure today. I do know there are some wonderful folks living there. I am still the interim pastor at First Baptist. I hope soon they will find a man to lead them to the next phase of their life as a church.In the meantime I am blessed to be a part of Taft a little each week.
