My sister and I grew up on that equipment, spending entire days climbing on the gargantuan combines and dirty tractors out at the shop on the home place. If a piece of farm equipment sat idle, maybe because the fields were too muddy to plow or it was just the wrong season, we would claim that cotton picker or combine as our own for the entire afternoon. It became our submarine. Always a submarine – never an airplane or boat or tractor. We climbed all over the surface, up into the rafters of the shop, swinging from one side to the top. Amazingly, we never broke any bones or farm implements. But, if we could have figured out how to actually start our submarine, we would have driven it over to Little River.
|Mississippi County Cotton|
Creedance Clearwater Revival, “Cotton Fields”
Buddy Jewell, “Sweet Southern Comfort”