The science behind cotton candy has always fascinated me from the time I was a little girl visiting the annual carnival. Later on in life, I was asked to help at a cotton candy booth at a fair.
It was a dream come true.
I had a BLAST twirling the sticks and spinning gigantic beehives of pink sugary fluff. Everyone loved me as their "Cotton Candy Lady."
I felt like I was a celebrity.
Some farmers in this area grow cotton. We didn't, so I don't know very much about the Cotton Crop. Those neighboring crops, however, are being harvested right now.
We were driving down a dirt farm road a couple of days ago. With cotton being harvested on both sides of the street, heaps of white fluff laying all over the ground almost created the feeling of fresh snow. Almost. (Okay...not really, but doesn't that paint a picture in your mind?)
I am a very "touchy" person. As I walk through stores, I have an over-whelming desire to touch everything. I imagine it was not very fun for my mom to take me through a store as a child, and I have to admit that this tactile compulsion has not diminished with age. I LOVE to touch things: to feel texture and experience life through my fingertips.
Which is why I suddenly screamed, "Pull over!" after realizing that I had never experienced the feeling of freshly-harvested cotton. When the car came to a stop, I jumped out the door, hopped over a culvert, and started to gather my samples.
Twisting it between my fingers and pulling it apart, a thought came to my mind.
"This is a familiar feel...I've felt it before...what is it?"
And then I realized: It feels exactly like the Cotton Candy you buy at the state fair.
It almost changes the way I feel about my Hanes Cotton Tees. Almost. (Okay, not really.)
1 comment:
When I was a kid I can remember taking family trips where we would see cotton field after cotton field that would line the California highways for miles. Like clockwork every time my mom would always say, "honey pull over so we can pick some cotton with the kids." "NO, if we keep stoping we'll never get there," as if he was an indy car driver on a mission to win some kind of race. Now years later I have become my dad yet inside something continues to holler at me when I pass a cotton field. JUST PULL OVER! Thanks for the memory. Have a great Thanksgiving.
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