Folks may feel empathy for the poor field hands, but unless you have picked cotton you can have no real feel for what they go through. The dried husk has sharp points. Some of it grows so low you're reduced to crawling. Dragging that long bag as it grows heavier. Carrying it to be weighed and dumped into the trailer.
My mother actually seemed to miss her migrant worker days. She told me strawberry season was her favorite. When I think how far you have to bend for strawberries I still wonder why.
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