#132

Postmarked: Boston Mass

May 2 1922

The sun seems to be going down — it's 5:30 — the trees here are not farther out
than they were at Cos Cob — all along, though, there are red maples in bud —
and it's both a warm red and a cool red — I love it — it's you even though it's
cool — it's so deep — deep — far down —

(part omitted)

The trees very green as we were out of the city — passed Mamaroneck — real spring
— a farmer plowing with a team of oxen — I thought they only did that in the
lazy South — glimpses of the water often — lovely marshes — soft and tan and
pale green or deep black water green — winding streams of water through their
levelness — little houses on the shores — I wonder about the people — a man
tarring a roof — a bucket of tar —

great hulking — black-looking boats — two-, four- or five-masters way off
on the horizon — water close — clean white sandy beach.

— And the rocks and the trees and the soil and the growing things —

(remainder omitted)

#133

Excerpts from letter postmarked: Boston Mass

May 3 1922

—It's morning — the birds are singing — the sun is shining in the window —
I see the tops of trees in the park outside — it is the city Common, I think —
This is the Woman's City Club — it must have been a great old house in its days as
a private house — a most wonderful circular stairway and the halls curve about
in a peculiar way — even the doors are curved like a warped board to fit in with
the line of the rest of it and it isn't all curved in one circular direction —
it seems to curve about in different directions — modern architecture will have
to hustle — I have a little room on the fourth floor shaped like this
window

door

I slept wonderfully with just one thickness of blanket over me — It is warmer here than in N.Y. but I was glad to have my heavy coat as they insisted I go to Mrs. S. son's with her to supper and we went in his open Ford — a huge red sun over the river was wonderful — just a solemn ball of hot-looking stuff gazing out of a grey sky.

It seemed nice to ride through streets where the buildings are small —

Coming back here in the Ford again the little moon was over the river — long rows of low lights along the river — very clean-looking. In the afternoon going to her sons we saw the Harvard crew rowing on the river.

(part omitted)

The son's wife teaches dancing — a very alive girl — she had a lovely old degaureotype (that isn't spelled right I suppose but you will know what I mean). It was of her mother and uncle as children and their father and mother when the grandfather was home on a furlough from the Civil War. It is really wonderful when you think of what a family group would look like nowadays —

(remainder omitted)

#135

Excerpts from letter postmarked: York Beach, Maine

May 6 1922

Arrived safely this noon --- a great sea rolling out in front --- they have a beautiful view of a long clean-looking beach --- great long waves breaking and rolling in --- riding in white and frothy over the sand. The house is much nearer the water than I had expected --- the water is a greyish lavenderish sort of color ---

I am upstairs

--- nice wide double windows --- down in front a mass of purplish reddish brownish bushes --- just a wild bramble --- beginning to bud --- then a fringe of grass at the road and beyond that all the water --- much - much water --- the long waves breaking on the very clean-looking beach --- it's much much nicer than I had thought it would be ---

(remainder omitted)

#156

May 6, 1922

I have arrived at the breakfast table --- feel much rested -- my insides feel better
too --- There is a painting -- a portrait of a young girl in a blue dress --- rather
like Beckett's portraits -- hanging beside me --- it seems a shame to hang such stuff
in such a house ---

I'm sure the builder and the people who lived here at first would
object ---

Thursday night -- 8

(part omitted)

Today has been so exciting I feel like a perfect wreck --- I am sitting in
the kitchen on a funny little rocking chair with a red cushion on the seat --- my feet
are perched up on the rack below the oven door --- onions are boiling on the stove for
supper --- the wind howls like the devil out here --- it isn't plastered or anything
like that, it's just boards --- a nice dark wood without finish of any kind except
that it's partly papered white up about seven feet --- and it's painted up that high
where it isn't papered --- all sorts of pots and pans and strainers and spoons hang
about everywhere --- table-tops white oilcloth --- long hangings in front of cup-
boards are bright red --- ceiling is very high up and dark --- floor not even
painted and hasn't been scrubbed any too often --- something about the whole place
makes me feel that --- extraordinarily good food has been cooked in it --- made to
use and not to look at ---

Not being plastered you hear the rain on the roof and
sides and the wind howls as finely as I ever heard it ---

Mrs. S. had gone to a neighbor's --- she just came in.

Morning -- I haven't known the time since I waked at 6:30 - old time --- It is a quarter

I just looked at my pastels — I rather like them — — — there will be more
— I must do her coffee pot too — that glass arrangement — it is too wonderful.

(part omitted)

I've been sitting at my window a good part of the afternoon — It's just a
grey sea out with masses of enormous white breakers coming in — a perfectly mad
tumbling and frothing and seething — I never saw anything like it that I could
sit and watch for hours — it's almost dark.

Mrs. S. and I went out some time ago and picked up lovely queer-looking
things — pink and green and brown — slimy-looking but not to touch — I have
them in water in a great big old white baking dish — some of them are seedy-looking
— a lovely blue shell — they are beautiful — It's too dark — I'll go to the
kitchen.

(rest omitted)

front of my fire — I'm going to try now to put down something of yesterday —

— You spoke of my impressions of Boston — I rather feel that Boston
is the parent of the rest of America — a rather severe one at that — Even
the street-car conductors speak to you as though they realize it and knowing you
are not of Boston and feel that you need a little of the severity thrown at you —
even though the next moment they are condescendingly kind.

(remainder omitted)

wrapped up in a pink blanket with a very pink face
--- wonderful lightning
--- then the setting sun suddenly breaking through
--- blazing on all the madness
--- I took a warm bath and went to bed before seven
--- ten to seven when
I got in, to be exact

(part omitted)

Mrs. S. brought me a glass of water
that I only half knew about
--- I was too sleepy to want supper
--- It was 3:30
when I waked up
--- tangled in my hair
--- I hadn't braided it
--- I got up and
looked out
--- stars shining brightly
--- queer little clouds
--- tiny ones
far apart in the sky
--- could see the whiteness of the waves breaking
---
I got back in bed
--- braided my hair
--- went right to sleep again till daylight
---
I don't know what time I got up
--- she was making coffee
--- I made
the toast and ate much raisin bread

My coat is drying on the roof again

Am going at the pastels again now
--- the skin is wearing off my fingers
from rubbing

(remainder omitted)

#140

Postmarked: York Beach, Maine

May 9 1922

— The sea is a very innocent blue this morning, with such an innocent little white edge of very long slow breakers — it's just beautiful — not quite lovely

— I sleep so well that if it wasn't for that wonderful thing out there — I'm afraid I would never get up — I have been down walking up and down it — the smooth part — from rocks to rocks — it's quite a long stretch —

I find myself wondering how I can get all the people I like to come and see it too — when I ought to be just feeling and seeing what is here — the water is truly wonderful —

(part omitted)

Mrs. S. wanted me to trolley up the beach and hunt for new sights this morn-
ing but I don't see any use in it — I like it here — it's very beautiful —
Yesterday afternoon we started out bravely at low tide for a walk of about five miles
but the wind — west wind from the land — blew such a gale that we didn't go
more than a quarter of a mile — and came home feeling simply torn to pieces —
I took the board off one of the doors of her little cottage next door — so she
could get in — picked some dandelions that we had for salad for supper —
they were very very good — I go to bed with a burning face every night — from
the wind — this morning the wind is from the northwest — it will have
gone round the whole compass if it shifts to the north.

We sat down behind a huge log on the sand last night to read our letters —
moonlight and rising tide —

(part omitted)

I can't help laughing at your saying Dickinson thought I had improved in
my work — the slimsy little rat never saw any of it before —

I am sorry to have missed Ornstein ---

but that day --- Saturday --- you said
you thought of me particularly --- while you were showing Rosenfeld and Ornstein
my things --- I was having that wonderful few hours up at Bald Head Cliff ---
where the sea and rocks were so marvelous --- so tremendous it seemed almost
unbelievable --- I have certainly had every kind of weather from the wildest
roaring clear deep sea to the fog Sunday morning that seemed to poke its head
right in at the window ---

Today is the warmest, I think --- but the wind is cool---

It was wonderful sitting on the beach last night. The great long dark waves
coming in and breaking --- a warm streak through it from the moon that
was gradually turning yellow as night came ---

Then again I went down at about eleven before going to bed --- There is
something about it that terrifies me --- it is so tremendous ---

(remainder omitted)

#141

Postmarked: Portsmouth, N.H.

May 10 1922

This will be only a note — we trolleyed part of the way to Ogunquit yesterday, then walked along the shore — beautiful rocky shore — low tide so there were many fine dark brown blacks covered here and there with dark green stuffs — a perfect blue sea — it was wonderful — trolleyed home — and went to bed right after supper —

Such a burning face — !

It was very very beautiful — so much so that I was content to walk along the path with no desire to explore at all.

The ocean is a perfect blue again this morning — The new pastels are wonderful — much better than I could choose — I think I'll always have you do it —

— I had to try them this morning — that's why I can't write more now —

We are on the way to Portsmouth —

she goes there to shop —

It's a perfect morning — quite warm but I must say again — my coat comes very handy for the wind is stiff — part of the way auto — rest by trolley—

It's really marvelous and

Trees seem much greener today even than yesterday —

G.

#143

Excerpts from letter postmarked: Bangor & Poston RPO

May 13 1922

However after returning from mailing my letter this morning I began pastelling later water coloring have been at the two all day and the day goes so fast it seems I get nothing done It has been raining off and on so I didn't mind staying in

Don't expect anything of the things I've been doing I don't feel started yet

Must go

8:15 - at the station

The ride over didn't take long - half an hour I guess It's wonderful and dark out and I never heard anything nicer than the singing things in the marshy places and they sing soloudly - little light in the farm houses

(remainder omitted)