Aunt Winifred's Weather Knee
Folks in the dry valley of Cobble Flats liked to say that Aunt Winifred Tuck owned the most accurate knee in the whole country. Whenever rain was on its way, her left knee gave a creak so loud that neighbors could hear it across three fences. Before a thunderstorm, it performed a little drumroll. Before snow, it let out a long, shivering whistle, and the children would run for their mittens. The weather office in the city had cost a fortune and employed forty scientists, yet it was wrong about half the time, so the entire valley trusted the knee instead.
Trouble arrived one summer when Winifred bumped that knee against a pie cart. From then on it gave only confusing signals. On Monday it creaked, drummed and whistled all at once, which seemed to promise rain, thunder and snow before supper. The mayor canceled the town picnic in a panic. The sky stayed perfectly blue, the pies went stale, and people began to mutter that the famous knee had finally retired without telling anyone.
Winifred, who was a practical woman, visited the doctor, and the doctor gave a simple answer. The knee was not broken. It was exhausted from years of carrying heavy crates of apples and pies up the hill. The cure was rest, a cushion, and a helper to do the lifting. Winifred hired a strong boy named Teddy, and within a week the knee settled down. It still grumbled in a low, offended mumble whenever a cloud drifted past, but the forecasts were as sharp as ever, and the picnic was rescheduled for a day the knee swore would be sunny.