Cousins,
It rained much of the day yesterday. As I drove throughout the day the rain was a constant companion. I put on a little music - three part harmony of old time music sung by a group I met at a festival. It was moody and full of sadness and regret. It reminded me of the hills, of promises made and forgotten, of loves lost, of loved ones gone on before me to that home beyond the hills, beyond the mist, beyond time.
Later in the evening Oh My Darlin' went to bed before me. When I quietly slipped into our bedroom I could hear her soft breathing as she slept. I carefully took my keys and pocket knife out of my jeans and realized how cold it was in the room. The window was open and the night air was as crisp as the sheets I hoped to slide into. When I shut the window, I then headed for bed.
We still have 2 quilts on the bed, mostly for Oh My Darlin'. I don't reckon we operate on the same thermostat. Last night was an exception. She had pulled the top quilt off my side of the bed, but I did not hesitate to pull it back on.
I pushed my way into the sheets and pulled them up to my neck. They quickly warmed and I smiled as I remembered many nights in the warmth of a featherbed and 5 or 6 quilts there on Arnett's Fork of Double Creek, yonder in Clay County. I remember laying in bed after my Great Uncle Bill had fallen asleep across the room, listening to the night, glad for the warmth of springtime quilts. Every treefrog seemed to be calling for a cover to warm themselves. Every cry of an owl was seeking just one more quilt on their nesting place.
My nesting place was warm and secure. The cold air on my nose felt right and the woman I love slept on as I wandered the hills of Appalachia. I don't reckon she even missed me as she slept.
I think I will always keep a quilt on my bed.
It rained much of the day yesterday. As I drove throughout the day the rain was a constant companion. I put on a little music - three part harmony of old time music sung by a group I met at a festival. It was moody and full of sadness and regret. It reminded me of the hills, of promises made and forgotten, of loves lost, of loved ones gone on before me to that home beyond the hills, beyond the mist, beyond time.
Later in the evening Oh My Darlin' went to bed before me. When I quietly slipped into our bedroom I could hear her soft breathing as she slept. I carefully took my keys and pocket knife out of my jeans and realized how cold it was in the room. The window was open and the night air was as crisp as the sheets I hoped to slide into. When I shut the window, I then headed for bed.
We still have 2 quilts on the bed, mostly for Oh My Darlin'. I don't reckon we operate on the same thermostat. Last night was an exception. She had pulled the top quilt off my side of the bed, but I did not hesitate to pull it back on.
I pushed my way into the sheets and pulled them up to my neck. They quickly warmed and I smiled as I remembered many nights in the warmth of a featherbed and 5 or 6 quilts there on Arnett's Fork of Double Creek, yonder in Clay County. I remember laying in bed after my Great Uncle Bill had fallen asleep across the room, listening to the night, glad for the warmth of springtime quilts. Every treefrog seemed to be calling for a cover to warm themselves. Every cry of an owl was seeking just one more quilt on their nesting place.
My nesting place was warm and secure. The cold air on my nose felt right and the woman I love slept on as I wandered the hills of Appalachia. I don't reckon she even missed me as she slept.
I think I will always keep a quilt on my bed.
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