Today has been an incredibly irritating day, but I shall not talk about that. Instead, I’ll talk about knitting and cotton.
I made a trip down to Jonesboro this weekend to see my parents, and I did quite a bit of knitting.
First, I finished the second repeat of chart 1 for the Icarus shawl. It doesn’t look like I have much done yet, eh?
It’s no where near the widest point yet, but each row takes a good bit of time already. I look forward to the more interesting parts…I have to plug along through 3 more chart 1 repeats first. *sigh*
Also, remember this guy?
It’s the second sock from the pair of Jaywalkers I started in March! I stopped knitting the second sock during my knitting slump this summer. I didn’t *want* to pick up stitches for the heel gusset and it was so hot out!
So, I picked up those stitches down in Jonesboro and made a good amount of progress. I also snapped one of the needles while doing a double decrease.
I am so strong, eh?
If I knit another pair of socks, I’ll definitely switch to metal needles.
My trip back to St. Louis yesterday was BORING, so BORING. I listened to the greatest hits of Simon & Garfunkle about 3 times until I finally picked up the St. Louis NPR station in time for most of This American Life.
Anyway, part of the leg between Jonesboro and Kennett was full of picture taking (thanks to Porkchop who reminded me that my phone has a really decent camera in it).
It’s cotton-picking time in the Bootheel! I took these photos for Porkchop, who has never seen this process (maybe you haven’t either).
Here’s what a cotton field looks like before it’s picked:
I couldn’t get a good picture of the combines (pronounced COM-bine), but look here for a good picture (fun fact: combines cost nearly a quarter of a million dollars!).
Then, machines like this are used:
I don’t know what the implement on the left is for, but the one on the right is the baler. It makes bales like these:
Actually, I like to call these things loaves because they remind me of giant loaves of bread. Later, a giant truck will come along and pick up the bales.
When I was growing up, cotton was transported to gins in big iron mesh trailers. The cotton was loose instead of packed down, so cotton flew everywhere. Also, a friend’s dad inevitably was a cotton farmer, so you usually got to play in a trailer half full of cotton. Fun!
That’s my trip report.
Now I’m irritated from work, suffering from sinus drainage and a sore throat, and bleeding.
Things could be better.