Sunday, Nov 26, 1882 Took a walk over to the woods near the Roatina to see if I could find some rich colored leaves, in the place where dear Gertrude and I got the ferns. I did find some although ice has formed in the ponds and I saw two boys skating on the Roatina as I returned. Shortly after I started the sky grew rapidly grey and that peculiar stillness and sober quiet came on which precedes the snow. The low tender tones of the grey woods, and the evergreens seeming only a darker gray and the peaceful hush on all things brought back the feeling I used always to have and which has always endeared this season to me, and which sometimes I feared had lost its peculiar charm. Shortly after I reached home the snow began to fall and now as I write before going to bed it lies deep over the landscape and is still falling. I did not care to see it yet for the walking has been so fine and I have had such pleasant rambles which I fear will be interfered with. Park went with me as he always does. My father and mother went to bed early and Sara and I talked of dear Gertrude, remembering her sweet and sunny nature and the grace and beauty of her whole life.