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I can see that row of golden willow
gleaming like flashes of yellow flame
against the bright blue sky.

There is a little bouquet before me
on the table composed of a few dried
leaves, grasses, a bit of arborvita, and
some amaranths. you cant think how
pretty it looks; such little things make
a room so cheerful.

Brune is trying to write to Charlie -
poor child, it is hard work for him -
but he will accomplish it I think.

I beleive I asked you once about
the Mr Ulkes, are they in Washington
this winter? and do you ever see them

Father was quite sick last night
but is better this morning, He can't
walk at all this winter. or at least
he gits sick when ever he attempts too.

The roads are in an awful condition
so that their is no going out these days

With muche love
Dalce