i guess i'm shifting this thing here:

http://deargabrielle.tumblr.com/

Moonshining Cotton Pt.VIII

Yesterday I got back to Fuquay-Varina, where my little plot o'land be.
Mom said she counted about 20 bolls waiting for me; this may've been an exaggeration, it may not've.

They were full and fluffy, soft and round.

I brought them home to add to my paper bag labeled 'SAVE COTTON' that my mother and sister started to collect what bolls developed when I was traveling a few weeks ago (this bag is quite stuffed, rests in a larger paper bag of cotton that's been deseeded.)

The point is this:
I stretched out the bolls to lay out in the air before tucking away.
As usual, I pressed their gathering gently around my face, and inhaled;
they convinced my brain that it was actually the air hovering above snow, in between trees on a mountainside-winter night that at that moment entered my sinuses.

and

Sometimes the 'silk'iness of the fiber, I watched grow from dirt and now stretches between my fingers, makes me gasp as though I would cry.

just sayin.

Moonshining Cotton Pt.VII

The natural light brown variety.
(I later found out that I had, in fact, planted some natural white seeds. This natural white actually is quite 'white' in the modern sense that's it's almost a blue white-the type of white you'd expect cotton to be.)The fibers themselves are lovely-silvery and even lighter and silkier than expected.

Here we have fibers + their removed seeds; in the yellow lid, pomegranate seeds saved from a fruit (possibly heritage) picked in Williamsburg, VA and longan seeds from fruit picked up at the local Asian store, hopefully not sterile.

And now I am confronted with this.
A whole, gratuitous, bunch of seeds (32/boll to be precise).
So the plants have conspired to secretly sweep me into the strange scene of seed-saving.

Moonshining Cotton Pt.VI

Strange angle, but they're actually taller than me (~165cm) now.
Which means they like to fall over.
This (heritage cotton) differs from modern cotton that has been altered to grow little more than half the natural height, to cater to the machinery 'necessary' for industrial production.

Moonshining Cotton Pt.V

boll+flower(pinkflower=?)
(whiteflower=?)

Moonshining Cotton Pt.IV

i left for a week (that's a month in human years) and this is what happened.

Moonshining Cotton Pt.III

Moonshining Cotton Pt.II

Moonshining Cotton

Here is the catch to the title: you've heard of the bollweevil maybe?
Well, they take this little creeper pretty seriously down here, and rightfully so.
Seriously as in, any grower of any cotton must register with the state (or so I hear...).
Thankfully, to my defense (of illegally growing cotton??), we've had an abundant fire ant problem for years here, who happen to be one of the weevil's natural (and therefore my beneficial) predator.

I'm learning there's always a lot to be learned.

Here is the setup, begun (a bit late in season) on 25May2010.
I picked these seeds by cleaning some already picked bolls from a local friend+(fellow?)fiberfarmer.
They are naturally coloured; she has white, vanilla, light brown, and even green and blue (which, contrary to their dyed counterparts, actually 'richen' in color with age).
They are also heritage cotton-the real stuff- not the type that's been altered and probably patented to cater to industrial mechanisms (more on that later).


We also have a barn of 7 horses behind us (no, not ours..), so I grabbed a shovel and bucket and made use of their pasture leftovers.
(The second bucket is resultant of personal leftovers-mostly citrus peels, tea and coffee.)

Mixed with the local sandy soil and some water for a concrete-ish soup (yes-the peels went in 'whole' like that).


I also have been in a coconut (I know, not necessarily seasonal/regional..) frenzy, and this helps the garden; Coir (coconut fiber) can be found in a variety of consumer products, but also helps manage moisture in the garden.I've heard it costs some money too, so I kept and shredded mine, and laid it in the trough several centimeters below seed-level.

Lent 'fence', in a taste different than mine; the poor things are jammed up against the side of the garage which gets strong afternoon sun.