December 21, 1987


I just had an interesting vision of me as an immigrant from Ireland in America.  My hair is all braided and I have rosy cheeks from the cold and I am wearing all different kinds of odd clothing.  It is about the 1900s. And even though I am not beautiful I am pretty and I am leaning up against a wall and a man takes my picture.

I have just decided that roses are my favorite flower.  I am reading the book The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett.

I think it would be nice to have my own garden.

You would not believe all of the hard work I have been doing.  I dug a forty-eight foot by two foot by three-foot ditch and then replaced the dirt but then I told you that.  I have been hammering nails and carrying lumber.

While I was doing all this I dreamed that I was in prison, maybe sometime in the 1870s,  but they let me work it off and I liked to dig.  Which was very odd because I was a woman.  Then a man got drunk one evening and tried to have his way with me. I fought him off and he was impressed. We became friends and he lived in my hut. People thought we were together, which we weren’t. He was always asking to marry me but I always refused.  Then the man had a chance to be a pirate so he could leave the prison camp.  At first, he said no but I talked him into it! And so on and so forth.  

I think I am lucky to have such a wonderful imagination.  My, it is quite past my bedtime.  Mary in The Secret Garden uses the word “quite” a lot. Oh, I got a letter from E. today.  It was nice to hear from her.  I saw L., sadly she has gained quite a bit of weight it seems to me.  I am not being malicious.  It is true.  Goodnight sweet prince.