In January, the fields are dead. Only a few pieces of cotton remain attached to their stalks reenforcing the feeling of overwhelming desolation with each passing mile of the seemingly endless road of route 61.
Houses are few and far between.
It is almost like no one lives in the Delta anymore. Driving through towns there is no Main Street. The remains of the main streets in each town are the same. Locked up behind the plywood that covers each storefront windows are better days that can be seen through the broken glass. There was once a busy life in the Mississippi Delta, but now hardly anything is left.