The Land of Cotton

BlogHer Network
Anyone who really knows me knows that I have been homesick for the last six months. Melancholy, tearful, dreaming of backhome with its scent of pine trees in the air, fields under a blanket white as snow in late August and September waiting for the harvest of the cotton, the late evening whine of cicadas, the sweet smell of magnolia in humid southern summer air, frosty mornings and warm afternoons, red dirt roads and antebellum houses. All these things and more sing the love song of home to my soul. . . .

Read more from The Land of Cotton at Home Grown

Trending Now

More Like This