About a year ago, a friend of mine, who is very much into decorating, mentioned that she was looking for some cotton pods like the ones above to fill a pot with. I got to thinking how much I would love to paint some in a still life, and I made a pact with her that whoever found it first would get enough for both of us. She lives in Atlanta, closer to cotton picking areas than me, but so far has not produced a single pod.
Meanwhile, the day I ate at the City Cafe in Northport last week (see my last post), I was walking by a store, and there in the window was an entire display of cotton stalks. It was perfect. I glanced through the window, and could see a large bucket brimming over with them. With glee I rushed to the door only to find to my HUGE disappointment that it was locked and they were closed for the day. I was set to leave town early the next morning. My brother and I then made it our mission (well, I made it mine, and he was a captive audience and complained profusely throughout) to find cotton somewhere in that cotton pickin’ town by the end of the day. We went to every decorator store, every antique store, and were even told where a possible field was where we could sneak in a pick some. NOTHING.
Meanwhile, I have a demo to do tomorrow for my classes, and I really had my heart set on painting cotton. So I am going to settle for boring old persimmons. But I still want my cotton. If anyone out there knows where I can get some, I am willing to pay top dollar for it.
By the way Bill, I’ll bet dried cotton would flame nicely too in case your pyromania begins to itch again. Do you suppose our blog is under surveillance for your tumbleweed story? We once lit an old Christmas tree on fire in Miami, and that caused a real scramble for the lawn hose (bandaid on a bleeding artery) and a bit of a stir in the ol’ neighborhood as well.