Jump down turn around pick a bale of cotton
Gonna jump down turn around pick a bale a day
Reluctantly, I tied my sunbonnet securely under my chin. It promised to be another hot humid day. I wore loose fitting clothes and long sleeves to help protect me from the sun and to keep me from getting scratched. A big burlap bag hung under one armpit with the strap over my opposite shoulder. Mama tied a knot in the strap to lift the bag higher, but it still dragged the ground.
Cotton growing in the field 
Cotton plant flower
Cotton fields ready for picking were a familiar scene along those back country Southern roads. From the car windows we saw snowy fields ready for harvest. Rows and rows of stalks with fluffy balls of white seemed to go on forever. People of all ages were in the fields filling their bags. For a little kid standing in between those rows, it took on a different perspective. It all looked rather ominous when seeing the task that lay ahead.
I was seven or eight years old. Daddy knew some of the country farmers. I don’t know how it all came about that we were taken to pick cotton. Beads of sweat were already forming even before I picked the first boll. The cotton was certainly soft and fluffy, but the husks that held the cotton weren’t. The sharp hard corners of the calyx jabbed into my fingers as I pulled and twisted off a ball of cotton and stuffed it in my bag. Down the row I went, grabbing and stuffing my bag. It left a trail in the red dirt as it followed me down the row. The sun and heat were relentless. I no longer objected to wearing the big rimmed sunbonnet that protected me from the fiery rays of the sun.
Cotton flower 
Just about ready to pick
I don’t remember how long it took to fill my bag. Well, my “full” bag wasn’t as full as others. A real cotton picker can be in the field for twelve hours a day or more. Their bags weigh about sixty to seventy pounds when filled. My bag wasn’t stuffed that much, but it did get heavy for me to drag down the row. When we were done for the day, I peeked in the bag filled with fluffy white cotton with little brown specks from the husks. We deposited our bags of cotton and held out our hands for the few coins we earned for our labors. I can assure you it wasn’t enough.
Our day was done. When we passed the fields going back home, I had a greater appreciation for the people who worked the fields. I looked at the cotton boll I had in my hand and put it in my bonnet on my lap. I would sleep good that night!