Saturday, Nov 17, 1888 I feel somewhat depressed this morning. Our preparations for the winter are nearly all made and I begin to think of going to N. Y. for the winter. I do not look forward to it with cheerfulness. If I had my choice I would stay here. I have a feeling that my day has gone by and I should like henceforth to be able to acknowledge it and to live a quiet life in the country. It has grown colder and wintry weather is reported in the West. The carpenters have not been here today. After lunch I went down to the root cellar and got four or five heads of cabbage and made a butter tub of saur kraut down in the lower kitchen. I subsequently showed it to old Mr. Gronemeyer, a German who said it was all right but rather marveled at the small quantity.
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