The Cotton Field on Mile Lane Road

Mile Lane Road wasn’t just any old country road in Lake County, Tennessee. This road contained eight houses and an old tin shed that was used for storage. Mile Lane Road was definitely the country. In the early years it was just old, Rural Route 1. You could find crops, hogs, pigs, cows, chickens and gardens at the farmhouses on that road.

I had many memories while living on that road. There is one memory that will always remain with me until I die. There was a cotton filed directly behind the houses on that road. When most people think of cotton, they think of a field with the white cotton crop. When I speak of the cotton field, I am speaking about the green crop before the white cotton has developed.

There is something very special about such a cotton field. I believe I was only about 5 or 6 years old. Throughout the summer we spent most of our days going barefoot. We developed many sand cuts, but that didn’t stop us from taking off our shoes. One day I decided to take my shoes off and walk through the rows of the cotton field. I was fascinated about how straight the rows were. The heights of the cotton plants were just about at my knees. As the cotton began to grow taller, I would take off my shoes and stroll down the rows. Before I knew it, the cotton had grown just above my armpits.

That particular day I took off my shoes, stretched out my arms and ran through the cotton field. I ran and ran and ran. I would run so far and then turn around and run back to the beginning of the row. When I ran through the field the cotton plants touched me right above my underarms and the sides of my legs. It just felt awesome. I actually felt like I was flying. It felt like my feet had been lifted off the ground and it was just the cotton and I.

You probably are wondering what’s so special about that. It’s special because I can still feel that feeling just thinking about it. Who would ever think that someone would find a fascination in an old green cotton field? It had to be cotton. I tried the same thing with a bean field and it just was not the same feeling. I never told anyone my secret discovery in the cotton field. I wanted this feeling all to myself. Whenever I would pass by a cotton field I would think of that feeling. I still have to remember also that many of my ancestors and family members spent many days chopping the weeds from the cotton before they got machinery to do it. As I think back on it now, I think of how I could have run across some snakes or anything with my barefeet. I guess someone was looking out for me because they knew I found joy in those fields.

That’s just one of the memories of Mile Lane Road. There will be many more to come…

Regina
Memories of Mile Lane Road