Sunday, May 8, 1887 Went home by the 11 55 train. It had rained at home. The country was very beautiful in its delicate spring garb, the cherry and pear trees in blossom. Tom met me at the station. Sara has cleaned my room to my great surprise as I meant to help her. She is like her mother for keeping busy. I was glad to be at home but I was depressed as I always am in the spring even when I have not my present anxieties. I thought of those of our household who are gone and as Sara said it always seems more lonely there in the fine weather. In the winter somehow in contrast to the landscape the home seems easier and more peopled and I do not have that desolate sense of loss and loneliness that I do in the summer. How Sara bears her trying and monotonous life as cheerfully as she does is a constant wonder to me.
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