“Brer Rabbit wuz wid’em, des ez big ez life un twice ez natchul,”
                                                                     Nov 30, 1919 –
     As I go out into the terrific gale I notice the intense cheerful warmth of red bricks, and yellow wood, they glow more than on sunshiny days -
     Here in this deep pinehollow where no wind ever comes; where the terrific gale in the outside is but the vague rumour of roaring tree tops, indistinct because of the roar of waterfalls & the busy crackle of my fire – here there is always the peace of the silent expectancy, eternal brooding – the snowflakes that outside were level streaks of white across the trees here flutter idly down like the toy snow of a child’s glass globe. The solemn gloom of this pine woods has a religious aspect.
     My fire has driven the spiders from the rocky ledge above -