16 May 1921

16 May 1921

Hotel Beau Site, Clarens-Montreux, Switzerland

These mountains have little lawns set with trees, little glades & miniature woods & torrents on the lower slopes & all kinds of different trees are there in their beauty. Then come the pines & the firs, then the undergrowth, then the rock & the snow. You meet tiny girls all alone with flocks of black sheep or herds of huge yellow cows. Perhaps they are sitting on the bank of a stream with their feet in the water or stripping a wand. And houses are so few, so remote. I dont know what it is, but I think you would feel as I did deeply pleased at all this. I like to imagine (am I right, my own?) that you would muse as you read: yes, I could do with a year there . . . And you must know that from Sierre one can go far and wide - in no time. I believe the flowers are in their perfection in June & July and again the alpine flora in September and October.
I see a small chalet with a garden, near the pine forests. I see it all very simple, with big white china stoves and a very pleasant woman with a tanned face & sun bleached hair bringing in the coffee. I see winter — snow & a load of wood coming at our door. I see us going off in a little sleigh — with huge fur gloves on & having a picnic in the forest & eating ham & fur sanwiches. Then there is a lamp - très important. There are our books. Its very still. The frost is on the pane. You are in your room writing. I in mine. Outside the stars are shining & the pine trees are dark like velvet.
Farewell, Bogey. I love you dearly dearly.
Tig.

[To John Middleton Murry in Collected Letters, 15 May.]