Monday, Jan 24, 1887 I walked down to the mail. It was raining and a dense fog prevailed. I was astonished to see how rapidly the sun had melted [?] Sara. Came back and went down [?] studio and worked until 2 o'clock painting a picture of a sky I saw at sunset a few nights ago. Wrote a note to John R. Stebbins who sent my father a present of some remarkably fine celery yesterday. This is the anniversary of our dear Mothers birth day. She would have been 78 years old. When I think of how in her life time she was the centre of this household it seems strange that we go on at all without her. The wind has changed to N. W. and it is blowing hard and has cleared. The mercury began to fall towards evening and it will probably be colder.
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