Tom Poland: Cotton pickin' memories | Tom Poland
My jaunts around the South take me past old haunts, a cotton gin now and then.
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My jaunts around the South take me past old haunts, a cotton gin now and then.
She planted the oak some 68 years ago. Miss Emily was around 26 then. The years passed, the tree grew, and today it’s a setting Normal Rockwell would have appreciated.
When I hear some determined soul say “wild horses couldn’t pull me away,” thoughts race through my mind. First, I think of Muscle Shoals, Alabama. You’d think it’d be Mussel
Seems to me, as the old folks would say, an aluminum dipper delivered the best drink of water.
Some say we are what we eat and that what we eat these days is killing us.