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The clipping this text was read from
The clipping this text was read from

By DAPHNE HUTCHINSON

Rappahannock New* Staff Writer

Cotton Miller has led a busy life. She’s been a teacher and a principal, director of Rappahannock’s welfare department, a mother and a partner in the farming operation run by her husband. Brown Miller, on the family’s fields in the shadow of Old Rag Mountain.

She’s now retired from all those earlier endeavors but Cotton is just as busy as she ever was. Using the basement of her brick home in the F. T. Valley as an office and shop, she's turned a framing hobby into a framing business, handling as many as five orders a day. "Before Christmas, I was working from sunup until nine or ten at night," she said, shaking her head and clucking at the memory of that pre-holiday rush. "But even during ordinary times, 1 generally make two or three frames a day."

A twinkling little grayhaired lady. Cotton’s face is normally creased into a smile as she bustles from the upstairs kitchen where she’s canning enough vegetable soup to feed an army to her downstair’s shop.

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