September is a very turbulent month that I love and despise. It’s hard to explain, but I’ll give it a go.

September is a manic month for my allergies. I go from a vibrant and energetic bugger to a mumbly and grumbly old fart. I reckon that Pine and Elm trees put out double doses of pollen during this month, along with the freaking ragweed. In fact, a few days ago, I washed my truck and had a thin layer of pollen on the pristine paint job within minutes. Just think about how much of that crap goes in our lungs, along with the pollution, of course.

However, I do have wonderful memories of September days. For example,I used to pick cotton, when I was a wee lad. My grandfather and I would visit a local cotton grower and help her harvest the cotton. It was back breaking work and dangerous to one’s health, with all of the prickers and such. I got paid in soda pop and peanuts.

Ah, those were the good ol’ days, when my grandpa would sit on the porch and tell stories of how he worked from sun up to sun down in the cotton fields. I relished those times. We’d also go just down the road to a diary farm, and he’d let me milk cows and even showed me how to make butter in an old fashioned butter churn. He had hair that was…indeed, as white as cotton. According to his sister, his hair had been white, since he was about eight or so.

Anyhew, I’ve got to study for class. Have a grand day all!