Soul of a Cottonfield

The Last of the Cottonfields

Growing up in southern Chandler I didn't give much thought to how great I had it. I'm sure I even complained at times. My family moved to a 2.3 acre property before I entered the fifth grade. The reason: Horses; my sister and I were hopelessly addicted to horses. We raced them barebacked around our yard, weaving in and out of the trees sometimes forgetting to duck before the low-hanging branches knocked into us, well, at least me.

We made obstacle courses, and jumping courses in the arena, made up games and pretended to be in the Olympics. We jumped ditches, waded in irrigation water, and caught snakes. We used to have a Christmas tradition of going on a family trail ride. We went trail riding often, but only occasionally were we all out at the same time. We even took the dog. Horses and riders set out from our house down the dirt road, past a paved Cooper Road and onto the narrow farm lanes. Surrounded by corn, alfalfa, or cotton fields we spent hours; we rode for miles and miles.

Today those fields are full of stucco covered houses. I am told the house I grew up in has been bulldozed to make way for another. I have not gone by to see for myself.

Faced with the recent issue of 'Where to Live?', I have given considerable thought to the question 'Where do I want my children to grow up?' and 'What kind of life do I want for them?'. I would love for them to have the kind of childhood that I had. Kevin has similar stories from his youth: Irrigation football, jumping tumbleweeds, etc. I don't think he would object to my desire for a rural life, although I fear that ideal is quickly becoming impossible.

For good or ill Kevin and I pourchased a house in eastern Queen Creek (a thirty-five minute drive from Kevin's Dad's house). We thought this might be far enough out.

There will be a Fry's Marketplace opening soon not 5 minutes down the road. The Super Target and Walmart (as well as an assortment of duplicate retail chains) opening in the Spring is less than fifteen minutes from our rural oasis.

The point of this blog: The first week of my visit this December, I was elated to find a cottonfield with the cotton ready for harvest out in Queen Creek. I nearly yelled the word 'cottonfield' as I drove past with Bremen in the back seat. Duely impressed by whatever would make his "Mama" so happy, the next time (and many times after) we drove past the fireld, Bremen yelled "cottonfield". We now have an expert Cottonfield Identifier on our hands.

I forced Kevin to pull over (as I often do) so I could photograph the cotton. He and Bremen ran around as I snapped the soul of the field into the black box I held. I stood and turned as I heard Kevin say to our son "Ask Mama?" Bremen came up to me and asked, "Mama, what does cotton taste like?"

At least he knows food doesn't come from the supermarket.

Arizona Holidays

The family took off for their annual trip to Arizona on December 9th. I joined them on the 21st. After a week of adjusting to the time zone changes, we were back to regular Arizona life. The family visits on Christmas Day was a challenge - 10am at the Grammy & Papa's, 2pm at Grandma Sandy's and 5pm at Grandma Norris. It was fun, but felt rushed as we were always running late trying to get to the next place.

Bremen raked in the gifts, as usual. Now we have to decide what stays in Arizona and what gets brought back with us to Slovakia. With a limit of two bags per person and 50 pounds per bag, some stuff is staying here.

Temperatures in Slovakia currently range from 23-28 degrees, compared to the 70 degrees we plan to hit this week here. Notice the short sleeves on Bremen at his Grandparents house. New Years Day was spent learning to clean/ride horses and playing with Arizona "snowballs".