pick a bale a day…

Happy Farming Thursday, y’all! I could tell you all about peanuts since I worked with over 30,000 tons of them this year, but instead I am gonna take it back to home-sweet-Triple-D-Farm’s-specialty-home: cotton.

Cotton, in my opinion, falls into the category of crops that are more difficult to grow. Even in the rich Delta soils, the “summer snow” requires much upkeep when it comes to weed and insect defense. (I’m probably just biased after multiple summers spent wading through the waves of cotton, chopping out the treacherous pig weeds while being eaten alive by mosquitos and the sun…)

In 1996, Biotech (Bt) cotton was introduced as a way to help farmers combat weeds. It altered the seed so that the plants could withstand shots of Roundup, while the weeds around them burned to the ground. This reduced the need for special equipment like hooded sprayers and gave farmers more freedom in their field applications. In the 16 years since its introduction, Bt cotton has taken command of a whopping 94 percent of the market. This shouldn’t seem surprising, yet, recently I have noticed more attention towards the transition back to conventional cotton.

Some farmers claim to have higher yields with conventional, but do the numbers really outweigh the increased labor and equipment cost? Charles Allen, Extension entomologist with Texas A&M AgriLife, says years of studies have proven both conventional and Bt cotton are profitable. There are also concerns with the Bt cotton infrastructure that is beginning to show some unintended consequences. The weeds in the Roundup Ready Bt fields have been growing more immune to Roundup over the last few years and researchers are afraid that we might have created a “super weed” through the adaptations.

While going back to conventional cotton may be an answer, therein lies another problem. Though this type of farming is not a long forgotten method, it is very rare. Likewise, many in the industry have no knowledge or skill of working with conventional cotton. With the declining market prices of cotton in recent years, the number of consultants, custom applicators, sales reps and entomologists that specialize in cotton have steadily dropped as well, leaving fewer and fewer people to assist in the switch back to conventional or to find new methods to defend against the “super weeds.”

“Every human resource in agriculture is a valuable one, with the world population expected to top 9 billion by 2050. Trying to build the agriculture infrastructure—not just in cotton— is as urgent as it has ever been in the past 30 years,” Allen says.

From a small farmer’s perspective, getting the “most bang for your buck” is the way of life, and thus, Bt may be the only way. But for more large scale farmers who have more access and funding, conventional may produce higher yields.

If Bt cotton continues to dominate the market, it is almost guaranteed that we will have super weeds that will continue to grow and change with whatever biotechnology throws at them, making the combat process nearly impossible in the future. On the other hand, if conventional cotton is encouraged, smaller farmers may be pushed out of the market altogether. Super weeds or super farmers?

This is just one view point on Bt vs. conventional cotton. There are many other things that play into cotton production that I didn’t even touch on, so before you make any assumptions, do your homework! (This is a prime example of why ag policy was one of my favorite classes and why the USDA has a LOT on their plate when putting together plans and laws. There are so many unforeseen and independent factors that affect agriculture and every option must be considered to make the best decision in “making the puzzle fit.”)

Is anyone else singing “jump down, turn around, pick a bale of cotton, gonna jump down, turn around, pick a bale a day!”? That’s been stuck in my head for the entirety this blog for some weird reason…hmm…

(Reference: Ben Potter’s article in Farm Journal for the interview of Mr. Allen.)

Until tomorrow, have a great one!

Thank a farmer. And remember: good things come to those who work their a$$es off.

Love always,

Addie

“I have not taken a serious task upon myself and I fear a greater one that is in the power of any man to perform in the given time- but it is too late to go back.” –Eli Whitney

“why is my font so weird,” she thought…

Peanut season rush hour is over, along with the sickening Christmas blood sugar-edge-of-a-coma digust, and New Year’s hangover, giving my head and body a chance to breathe and slowly return to a somewhat “normal” state. Or at least as normal as I can get….

It starts off quiet: I’m sitting at work adding a few new contracts to the system, typing out a spread sheet for taxes, which reminds me that I need to type up the lease agreement for the apartments, which then gets me to thinking about my apartment, and lighting, and color swatches, and washing machines, and the next thing ya know, I’m searching for Turkish rugs on eBay…again.

Or I’m checking emails when I suddenly realize that I might need to pin a few things. As I scroll through the ecstasy of DIY’s on Pinterest, my “painting itch” starts to creep up and the next thing I know I want to bake a soufflé, try to prepare chicken seven different ways, and “pick” a massive amount of chalk board for little to nothing. And somehow I still haven’t realized it…the bubbling matter that has been stuck within me for so long that is trying every way possible to tell me to LET IT OUT! I brush it off again, assuming that it must be getting close to my time-of-the-month, not even stopping to consider the amount of time that that has passed since I last wrote a full anything besides my “notes to self.”

I hop in the shower to rinse off the day, eager to clear my head before crawling into bed. That’s when it hit me. Instead of freeing myself from anything, the thoughts and inspirations that I’ve kept locked up inside me (attempting to hold them off until after peanut season and the holidays, when I would have ample time to properly compose them) began to spill. It’s like the heat from the water was seeping the words out of my pores and suddenly I was afraid of their vulnerability. When I push thoughts to the back of my mind and refuse to think about them, they are safe until I’m ready for a creative brainstorm to perpetualize* (Yes, I believe I made up the word perpetualize. But it works nicely.)them on paper…or the computer. But when they start to erupt on their own, I am always afraid that I will think them and immediately lose them (like most NORMAL people do with weird thoughts).
So, I half-a**ed the rest of my shower to get out as quickly as possible before my thoughts (literally and figuratively) washed down the drain with everything else. I threw on a borrowed robe and rushed into the bedroom, stealing “play school supplies” from a 3-year old to scribble down the thoughts as fast as they came to me. Note to self- don’t go this long without writing. Ever. Second note to self- keep notebooks close by so you don’t have to steal Josie’s paper anymore.

Creativity is not something that can or should be withheld. It will find it’s way out eventually. Even if through another channel like Pinterest or apartment shopping. It’s like screaming, or pooting- you just gotta let it out. Or else you’ll explode. Possibly in the shower.

It’s not even like I have profound thoughts that really need or should be shared with anyone. Kameron and Payton followed me to the bedroom last night after watching me run like a banshee out of the shower, making sure I was ok. I explained to them that I had to write my thoughts down. I felt very philosophical saying it, but the looks on their faces quickly made me feel like a drama queen. Big surprise there. Then when they asked what I was thinking that was so important I needed to write down, I re-read over my short-handed notes and almost laughed. Because nothing about it was important. But not writing it down somehow made me feel like I was going to lose that part of myself in that very moment. I guess I like to write because I can make little, nothing moments seem so much bigger, at least to me. And from then on, every time I re-read my thoughts, I can reflect and know exactly where I was in that moment.

I’m in love with words. And language. And cues. I’m not very good at using them and often times make them up, but I love to read them. They’re like music because they can make you feel. Or interpret. Or both. I love to write because it’s somehow an appreciation of the things I love the most. (Or possibly a depreciation from anyone else’s point of view after reading the things that I write.) When I don’t have time to really write the way I like to (in a non-rushed manner–the way I like most everything), I make stupid little notes to myself to return to later. I’m weird because I don’t like for people to read my notes in rough draft form. It’s like I am wary of them until I finalize and read over them again to make sure I still like what I thought I liked..I thought…. Because of this, I (purposley and subconsciously) write my notes in a cave-man like manner that makes simply reading them hard, and understanding them like trying to focus inside of a kaleidoscope. Sometimes I find the notes and can’t remember what on earth I could have possibly meant. Other times I read them and instantly know what I meant by “I wish I was strawberry cake.”

Nevertheless I need it like a drug therapy. (Yeah, we’ll go with therapy because that’s definitely more relevant in this case.) Some people enjoy hunting and the sanctity of nature, others enjoy the beach or retail therapy, while others simply prefer the burn of bourbon. I can’t say that I dislike any of those “therapies”, but my primary one is and always has been writing. I can remember sitting in my room as a child, mad at the world for who knows what, and unable to write my feelings because I couldn’t spell to save my life. So I started scribbling as hard as I could, sometimes ripping the paper and breaking the pencil lead or forcing in the marker tip beyond use. Then I started drawing. But I’m not a very good artist. But once I got the basics of language down, I started writing. And it’s all downhill from there. (I always wonder why we say it’s all “downhill” to explain something that’s easier/better. I get the easy part, but if something is better shouldn’t it be “uphill”. When I say “We finally made it to TJ Maxx and it was all downhill from there” it sounds to me like it went “down” in a negative sense, but in truth it went wayyyy up, because seriously, what’s better than TJ?!)

I am pretty sure that I use writing as an outlet because I cannot speak. Those that know me might initially disagree about me claiming to be shy, but after they thought about it for a while, I’m pretty sure they would agree. As bold as I would like to be, and as many awesome come-backs and introductions and speeches and prayers and probably-not- so-witty remarks that I have composed in my head, I cannot find the courage to vocalize them. Which is pretty dumb because I can write some of the weirdest things in this blog and publish them on the Internet for virtually anyone in the world to see, but to say the actual words out loud to even a tiny audience gives me the heeby jeebys. If my voice is paralyzed, at least my thoughts aren’t. Maybe it’s an accountability thing. Maybe I’m afraid that people won’t like what I have to say or will disagree with me. Maybe I’m afraid that they really will like it. Either way, writing lets me be more anonymous with the placement and usage. And the best part is, I don’t even have to be part of what’s going on in your (the reader) comprehension process…I think I just had an epiphany- my New Year’s resolution need to be to speak more. That includes having the courage to speak. What a good one!

Now that I have taken up all this space to express my undying and unnatural love for words and creativity, I think it’s time to draw this post to an end. I have formalized my bubbling thoughts in another document on my computer (and feel much better), which will be added to future blogs. Soon, I promise. But this one is getting weird and needs to stop. I think I think too much. Or maybe my ADD is getting worse…I wonder what I thought about in class when I was a small ADD kid that wasn’t paying attention….

Yeah, definitely time to stop.

See you again soon.

Love always,

Addie

“I wonder…if the rent in the canvas of our life’s backdrop, the losses that puncture our world, our own emptiness, might actually become places to see. To see through to God. Through the earthly trappings into glorious moments beyond. Through which His light is bursting through the openings. This was a see-through place, but until I opened my eyes, I would not see God.”– Daily Devotional, Girlfriends in God

Plain old covers and Walls

You know what I’ve been thinking lately? It really is hard to judge a book by its cover. Some of the best books ever written have dated, simple, solid color covers binding them together. How are we supposed to judge that when there’s not even a picture to depict something that has to do with the plot? Or what about the books that have subtle “symbols” on the cover that you can’t quite understand until after you’ve read the book? Or the one’s whose cover doesn’t at all match what you envisioned in your head while reading the book? Maybe that’s just how society is evolving. Used to, people didn’t need a certain color or picture on the front of a book to convince them to read it. They read out of sheer enjoyment and curiosity. Not that people don’t still do that, but more and more I think we find ourselves literally judging what we want off of reviews from other people’s opinions or simply by the outward appearance that someone else created in their mind. How do you possibly deem that a self-made decision? Two people can look at the exact same object and see two totally different things. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t take other people’s word into consideration, but we do need to start weaning ourselves from the attitudes that are being fed to us by today’s society.

Ok, that intro led me to the meat of my discussion for today: don’t judge a book, don’t judge a person. There’s an old saying that we’ve all heard, “don’t judge another person until you have walked in their shoes.” As I was sitting in the McDonald’s drive-thru last night at 2:00 am, I never realized that to be more true. For example, do you think that the man working the window dreamed of growing up to work the McDonald’s night shift? Probably not. (I can’t honestly say that it would be a bad job, because I’m sure that it can be very entertaining at times to meet all the “forth-mealers” in their nightly endeavors, and if the man truly loves his job, who am I to say he doesn’t? The man could have been a road kill clean-up staff member for all I care, as long as that’s what truly makes him happy.) But the drive-thru window man didn’t look happy at all. Tiredness had overtaken him and he honestly looked a little sad, which initially could have been mistaken for rudeness, and also really put a damper on my Happy Meal.

Some people have tough lives. I don’t know why I was blessed enough to be dealt a good hand (Lord knows I don’t deserve it), but it always makes me think twice about those who didn’t quite get the “luck of the draw.” Some people are able to overcome their struggles and humble themselves, while others never even try to fight the battle because they feel like they have lost before they ever get started.

So when you run into a person that’s mean, dirty, quite, or simply working a job that you wouldn’t have chosen for yourself, remember, you don ‘t know where they’ve been and what they’ve had to endure. Battles and triumphs make us stronger, but they can also cause walls to be put up. When you judge a person without knowing or taking into consideration their story, you are not taking advantage of a life lesson. We can all learn something from each other.

Next time you’re out, take a moment to “people watch.” You’d be amazed at what you can gain from actually getting a glimpse inside someone’s life instead of taking one quick glance and shutting them out.

What have you learned from your neighbors today?

Love always,

Addie

“Your neighbor’s vision is as true for him as your own vision is true for you.” -Miguel de Unamuno