A Windy Knoll Report 1995

The Windy Knoll was a winter wonderland!  As I lay sprawled out in my recliner, I could see the top of the white-peach tree towering above the car shed and it looked as though a giant paint brush had stroked white on every branch and every twig.  Breathtakingly beautiful – a beauty we seldom see here on the mountain.

To say John and I’ve been sick would be an understatement – we’ve been near death’s door – one was hardly able to wait on the other.  As we reflect on the last few days we can find a few laughs, but at the time there was nothing funny about any of it.

I kept remembering a story a friend has shared with me more than once.  There was a man in this neighborhood who was very ill (I’m not sure if it was terminal or not) and people who came to the local store would inquire about the man’s condition.  One morning inquiries were being made; however, the storekeeper had heard nothing new and then she saw the son of said sick man approaching and suggested someone ask him about his dad.  His answer was “Well, he’s better’n he is; ain’t worse as he wuz and Ma thinks maybe by tomorry he can chaw ‘backer.”

Every morning I tried to think I was not “worse as I wuz,” but it took a full week to notice a slight improvement.  I know how many east/west cracks there are in the den ceiling and how many north/south cracks, too.  I started counting the knots in the Callifornia red cedar ceiling numerous times and every time I’d fall asleep or experience some other interruption that kept me from completing the job.

I know which corner is harboring the largest cobweb and I know which window is the dirtiest as well.  I’ve spent more nighttime (and daytime) hours in the recliner than I’ve spent in the bed.  I even had a regular routine worked out to get there and still have all he lights turned out by the time I settled in.

Finally, to save myself “wee-hours-of-the-morning” steps, before I retired to the bedroom I would just put the afghan in the floor by the recliner.

Now I’ve always contended that I’m not a cougher; however, I’ve never before had whatever it is that I’ve recently  been through.  I’ve coughed and coughed and coughed and continue to cough and cough.

What a shame we don’t own stock in the Robitussin and Minute Maid companies – what with all the cough medicine and orange juice we’ve consumed.  We must have helped keep the price of said stock right at the top for the last several days.  If one is not already sick, by the time he gets to the cash register at the drugstore to pay for prescription drugs he will be.  I’m glad I was not present when John went to pick up the medicine — there’s no telling what he said as he wrote the check –perish the thought!

When he walked in and told me the cost, I even had a “sinking” spell myself.  It was like making a payment on the national debt.  I could have added lots of fabric to my collection with that much money!!

“Under the weather,” – it’s certainly not the best of country living.