Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

left it the night before. Conscious-stricken I went out to lead the horse t shelter, but first put my arm around its neck, and my cheek to its, seeking forgiveness. The horse rubbed its nose against my cheek lovingly, much to my joy. ; It grew much colder in the night – the window to the east, in my room was [covered] with heavy fern-like frost – The rising sun, sending rich orange-gold light from the remote southeast, soon melted the frost.; Last night we were wondering how we were going to be able to celebrate Christmas – shopping conditions being what they are – the girls say it is literally close to impossible get into stores, or once in, to get near the counters. ; I am still in bed, with a bad cough, altho [sic] this afternoon, in desperation I got up, to shave and bathe. After which, I felt more human.; Reading “Random Harvest” by James Hilton, and enjoying it thoroughly.; Got up, dressed, and had supper down-stairs with the family. Due to various complications, there are only two meals in the weeks when we all meet at the dining table – Tuesday night, and Sunday noon. So I felt this was an occasion.; After dinner, Mary Alice and Martha departed for the concert, Art and Cathie to the High School basket ball game, I