September 19, 2024
Emily Bronte wrote, “Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.” Nothing says autumn in the Delta more than the turning of the leaves... the bright yellows, browns, oranges, reds and even purples speak slowly to the soul.
There may be no hills or mountains covered in colorful trees, but family yards, city park and woods ripe for hunting take on a new beauty not to be found anywhere else in the world. The Delta leaves mean long walks in the woods, football games on the lawn, fishing on the river banks, friends gathered around the fire pit, and four-wheels flying across the harvested fields.
In the written words of George Eliot, "Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love—that makes life and nature harmonize."
Harvest is well underway and the first day of Autumn is Sunday, Sept. 22.
It’s that time of the year again... time to get out your sweaters and football jerseys... head down to the bonfire and Friday night lights.
In the words of American Idol winner and country music star Scott McCreery
Friday night football games, sweet tea goes good with anything
Fireflies come out when the sun goes down
Nobody eats till you say Amen, and everybody knows your mama's name
You can see who loves who from miles around, in a water tower town.
If I close my eyes for just a moment, I am transported back in time... to my mom's kitchen filled with the aroma of fresh baked biscuits and sweet chocolate gravy.
I must admit, as a child, the cotton harvest was my favorite. Now, don’t get me wrong, pulling a cotton sack down one row after another and pricking your fingers until they bled was not fun. However, you have to remember I was the baby of the family, the youngest of 10. I might have been a little spoiled. When I got tired, mom would let me go lay in the cotton wagon.
For all of you young folks out there who are used to seeing big rows of cotton wrapped in giant yellow plastic sitting all over the fields, this was the 1960s. We picked cotton in a sack, weighed it on a pair of hand scales, and then dumped it in a big wagon. Once the wagon was full of cotton, mom and I would take it to the cotton gin. In the mean time, there was nothing so great as jumping up and down on the big fluffy bed of cotton. I would jump and giggle until I fell down with exhaustion. Oh, and then I would just gaze into the big sky, full of beautiful white clouds...
Then there was the big barrels of ice cold water sitting at the end of the field with a metal dipper. That water was so cold I would pour it all over my head...
Just sweet memories... Enjoy the harvest.
Sandra Brand is the editor of the NEA Town Courier and The Osceola Times. She may be reached by phone at 870-563-2615 or by email at brand@osceolatimes.com.
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