Pausing to Look Back

It is appropriate today to look back and remember the events of six years ago; and I will let those who are better thinkers and writers handle that task. I want to, however, do some personal reminiscing, as The Mister and I celebrate 28 years of wedded-almost-always-bliss.

Our actual anniversary was a few days ago; September may seem like a strange time for a wedding, but it makes perfect sense to Arizona cotton farmers. In June, when most blushing brides are walking down the aisle, the farmers are watering and cultivating the cotton, and there is absolutely no time for frivolity. But in September, there is plenty of time for celebrating, because it is the "lay-by" season.

Here is a brief explanation of the cotton-growing season. We begin with a picture of The Mister cleaning ditch banks with a small tractor. This picture is from February 1972:



Clean ditch banks were very important to the family; it is akin to having your house picked up when guests come over, besides the practical reason of not letting weeds spread down into the field.

In February, the farmers would still be in the middle of getting ready to plant the cotton. In fact, they would pass over each field seven times with equipment of some sort before they did the "listing" - making the rows in which to plant the cotton. (The seven operations are: 1) cutting the stalks, 2) disking the field level, 3) plowing the field, 4) disking with a heavy disk, 5) land-planing the field, which means making it level, 6) disking again, 7) land-planing again.) After the rows were made, the field was pre-irrigated so there was water in the soil and the cotton would germinate quickly. Here is a shot of some young cotton:




Then came the nurturing of the plants, alternating cultivation and irrigation. Cultivating killed the weeds, as well as filling the cracks in the soil so that the ground wouldn't dry out very deep. I have always been amazed that driving a tractor over the baby cotton didn't destroy it; driving straight was very, very important:


After the cotton has grown to maturity, it is too large to cultivate, and we don't want it to grow anymore, and we want to stress it a bit by withholding water, which makes the cotton bolls open. This period of time is the lay-by time; the farmer gets married, and takes his vacations, and in general rests up for the picking season.

Here is a good look at three pickers going at once:




I'm inserting a picture of The Mister's father and uncle standing in a field of Pima cotton. Bias For Action talks about this picture:

This photograph intrigues the Morrison family. The first thing family members notice is how tall the cotton is standing.Long staple cotton grew well in Arizona. It would often grow fewer bales per acre, but the cotton - with its longer fibers - was in high demand, and brought a higher price. Farmers constantly would “gamble” as to how much long staple to grow and how much short staple (which would produce more, but bring a lower price than long staple).

This picture shows the Morrison brothers at a very young age; they can’t be much more than 30 years old.

When the picker was full of cotton, it would be dumped into metal trailers parked at the edges of the field. While the picker was stopped, there might be some quick maintenance, and safety was paramount. Here is a fellow getting the trash out of the spindles; he would need to make eye contact with the driver before the driver started up the spindles again. Getting caught in there would at the least take an arm off, and could actually end someone's life.



The cotton would then be "tromped" - somebody would walk around tamping down the cotton so that the trailer could be full; there's no sense in pulling a half-full trailer, after all:


You can see our old quonset hut and part of the mill in the left background behind the feedlot; this is before the 4 grain tanks were built.

The last procedure, of course, was the ginning and baling and marketing of the cotton. That's a story for another time.

In the meantime, enjoy this lay-by season.