Just four weeks ago today we left College Hill to come home. It all seems strangely surreal. A temporary change, something I have passed through that I can hardly retain any tangible idea of. I put up our stove as last night was very cold. We attended to this always together and it seemed so strange not to have her advice and assistance. When it was all done I dusted off her bureau and the furniture and I came across so many things that brought her so near to me. Her work basket just as she left it, her gloves just as she took them off and all her various articles of dress and work dropped as for a day but never again to be taken up by her. Oh this is sad, this is a mystery! Today was election day I went and voted immediately after breakfast and after dinner Tom and I repaired the fence and gate on the side hill. All the evening I have thought so much of her and my mother and I have talked of her and cried over our memories of her. I built a fire in my stove for the first time before tea and now tomorrow I must write some letters. Bowyer went home this morning.