4 January 1915 – 10 January 1915

Woke early and saw a snowy branch across the window. It is cold, snow has fallen, and now it is thawing. The hedges and the trees are cov- ered with beads of water. Very dark, too, with a wind somewhere. I long to be alone for a bit. I make a vow to finish a book this month. I'll write all day and at night too, and get it finished. I swear.

Saw the sun rise. A lovely apricot sky with flames in it and then a solemn pink. Heavens, how beautiful ! I heard a knocking, and went down- stairs. It was Benny cutting away the ivy. Over the path lay the fallen nests — wisps of hay and feathers. He looked like an ivy bush himself. I made early tea and carried it up to J. who lay half awake with crinkled eyes. I feel so full of love to-day after having seen the sun rise. Evening. Have written a good deal.

J. went to town. I worked a little — chased the fowls. One brown fowl refused to leave the garden. Long after it knew there was no gap in the wire- netting it kept on running up and down. I must not forget that, nor how cold it was, nor how the mud coated my thin shoes. In the evening L. and K. They talked plans; but I felt very antagonistic to the whole affair.

Windy and dark. ... At night we went to L.'s. It was a warm night with big drops of rain falling. I didn't mind the going, but the coming back was rather awful. I was unwell, and tired, and my heart could scarcely beat. But we made up a song to keep going. The rain splashed up to my knees, and I was frightened. L. was nice, very nice, sitting with a piece of string in his hand . . .