“Today, it is the scent of honeysuckle that takes me back in time and lays me down near a barn. I pick a honeysuckle blossom, touch the trumpet to my nose and inhale. With sticky filthy fingers, I pinch the base of its delicate well then lick the drop of nectar. The sweet liquid makes me thirst for more, and I reach for another and another, the same hands that reach again and again for tobacco as I string. I separate honeysuckle blossoms and taste.” FarmingTobaccoSouthern FictionFarm LifeSouthern WomenStringing Tobacco Author:Brenda Sutton Rose
“As I string, a swift rhythm is played out with my hands, a cadence known only to those who have strung tobacco. To many of the poor workers, the meter and rhythm of stringing tobacco is the only poetry they’ve ever known.” PoetryPoetry QuotesFarmersFarmingFarm LifeStringing TobaccoBrenda Sutton RoseTobacco Farming Author:Brenda Sutton Rose