I was on my way back to Memphis last Sunday afternoon, when I noticed the cotton fields were in bloom. Fresh, beautiful cotton was everywhere. On the occasions when something catches my eye, I rarely ever stop to actually take a picture of it. I still don’t know what made me stop that day, but I’m really glad I did. At first glance I didn’t think I got very much after reviewing the pictures I shot. I once heard that if your pictures aren’t good then you’re probably not close enough. Whoever said that is more right than anyone can image.
 
You would think that with me being from Mississippi I’d be tired of cotton. Honestly I never really cared much for it. It makes me break out in goosebumps when its in its natural form. Strange, yes I know. I still make sense of it. I also never really cared for it because of the negative connotation that stems from it. Cotton. I know some Mississippians who rep it like thugs rep bandana rags. I wish I could say that I felt a certain way when I took the picture but honestly I didn’t feel tied to any emotion really. If anything I felt nerdy, creative, and extremely spontaneous. I mean who else just randomly pulls over off the highway and walks through mud just to take a picture of cotton. One random trucker honked his horn at me. I found that quite amusing. I was actually surprised I didn’t get a visit from the highway patrolmen or something. That’s what usually happens when I go out for my spontaneous photographing adventures.
 
I can just remember that it was such a nice day out and I knew I’d kick myself if I didn’t stop and take just one picture. I’m steadily learning to take the time out of my busy life to put into film or paper everything that catches my eye and makes me stop and think. Hopefully one day I’ll have journals and blogs that are filled with a life full of extraordinary experiences to remind me of the person I was when I was young when I get too old to remember.