Dec. 1
     The rain turned to snow in the night – the refreshing mist of sifted snow dampened my face at 6 o’clock – In town shopping for Christmas, and most of the afternoon writing some unavoidable letters – but the house atmosphere cramped me – at last I am free, and taking the snow shovel I clean paths – the healthy vigor with which I did this, and the joy of physical exertion were such as I have not experienced for many a day.
      Before supper for a walk – bitterly cold – it is dark, and a raw wind drives fine snow from the north – automobiles with their garish lights, light up ribbons of drifting snow.
     Dec. 2 –
     A bitterly cold night – I could not sleep for the cold, nor could I warm myself with more cover – I lay cramped, filled with pessimistic thoughts about my life and work –
     The mood persisted all day, but at evening I took a walk – a sullen orange opening in the dark leaden sky to the southwest, against it the  jet black infirmary and the elms – the wind is now out of the south, and sends the snow back from where it came last night –
     Dec. 3 – 1930
     Quite unexpectedly I painted all day on a new work - my Viking Hall, with great joy and exuberance.  It went so well that when I went out for my walk in the twilight, I was full of intoxicating happiness.