Nov. 27 – (Monday)
These cold white moonlight nights (last night I proved the old saying: “moonlight bright enough to read a book by”) a hard freeze – but now the day is milder (a dark sinister void of gray in the sky) – a frost line still on the sidewalks, like mildew – the moldering earth –
B to town shopping – I was upstairs when Arthur came home from school. He started calling me, so I sneaked down quietly to scare him; just as I got to the middle room by the door to the kitchen, I shouted “What” as loudly as I could. To my chagrin he told me someone was at the door – the “someone” proved to be a young woman soliciting orders on sundry articles. Tho she was gasping and laughing, she said I frightened the wits out of her. I could feel my face burning, tho I tried to pass it off lightly. Inasmuch as I startled her, I felt as tho I must buy something from her.
P.M. I had ordered a load of manure in the morning for delivery today, expecting to ask Bergert’s to allow the trucker to drive into their place. However, Mrs. Bergert was washing and when the men arrived, her backyard was full of clothes. The man had promised to wheel it back for me in case I could not use the neighbor’s yard, but he refused to do so, and backed in his truck, and dumped it all in front of the garage.
It was an appalling sight – I can hardly describe my feelings as I looked at it, and wondered what I should do with it – It seemed as large as a mountain and had a frightful odor. Bertha, came took one look, and with a despairing gesture, went away. But she came back then, and came to my rescue in the matter of price (we had agreed to $6, but she insisted on a rebate of $1 for the hauling.)
Luckily I was able to get George Marcha to come down right away and wheel it away. I spread it over the garden, and by dark the driveway was clear.
We had a hilarious time at supper going over these two little episodes.
Charles Burchfield, Journals, November 27, 1939