On My Daily Drive to the Office...

Today, on my way back to the office, I decided to stop and take pictures of what I see every day on my drive in.

Cotton... everywhere.

So many times I have driven right past the machines,

the people, the vast, dusty fields. And...

I don't think much of it.  Usually think about things like...

"What are the kids doing right this moment?"

"I'm hungry... need to eat more protein."

"What is on the agenda for this week?"

"Where can I slide my next workout in?"

Things that really do not matter since it is irrelevant at the moment or, until I am IN the moment.

Well, I am SO glad I did stop today because it made me realize that Life... in my coffee shop... is still evolving all around me.  Totally unaware of it at times because I get caught up in my own world, but it is nice to go of course every now and then... JUST to mix things up.

 

I watched as...

1. tractors somehow picked the cotton off the shrubs, leaving the framework virtually untouched (still don't fully understand it).  And, how each piece of machinery had a specific function ultimately leading to a stack of compacted cotton in a bale as large as, what seemed like, a semi truck trailer.

2. cotton was actually growing out of little buds.  And it was neat to watch them blossom before my eyes.  Some fully open.  Some partially.

3. migrant field workers worked diligently as their tattered clothing, sun-bleached hats and weathered skin served as a reminder of the long, grueling hours they put in - daily.

Without exchanging any dialogue, one of the equipment operators gave me a welcoming smile so I climbed aboard his compacting machines and stood next to him, briefly, until his foreman urged me to climb down (liability issues of course... but I played dumb).  During my brief moment, I gave him my unopened bottle of water and he seemed touched. More than I had expected. I also watched as he operated the levers with such expertise after years of experience, I'm sure. VERY cool watching the soft, white fluffiness get compacted into tight, blocks of cotton; ready to be turned into clothing, sheets, Q-tips, and so much more that we all take for granted.

The best part of my visit... remembering that my dad, himself, was a migrant field worker in this same San Joaquin Valley during his teen years.  Gave me a profound sense of respect for him. Yet, again.

"Thank you, Dad. I Love you."