17 Dec 1921

17 December 1921

Chalet des Sapins, Montana-sur-Sierre, Switzerland

   I fear I am dull; I am boring you. But I wanted so much to write just for the sake of sending you our love; of saying how often you are in our thoughts and how we long to see you. The petunias, asters, nasturtiums, sweet peas - oh, how glorious they were! - flash upon my inward eye very often. But only to mention them is to remember how one loves flowers and longs for them. Even a florist's shop. I can smell one now and even the paper the roses were wrapped in has its smell.
   But here is the gentle Ernestine with the supper tray, so one's nose goes into le potage instead - or rather, hovers over.
   Farewell, dear Elizabeth,
                      Do not quite forget us,
                          Katherine.  [To Elizabeth, Countess Russell, 15 December 1921.]

Dearest Brett
   I must write you a small Christmas letter. I do not yet know whether the furry boots I have ordered for you will arrive in time. If not I shall send you my new milanese petticoat, for there is nothing here that I can buy for you, my dear, & remembered you shall be. Dont be too hard on me. The shops that there are - I cannot get at even if they were to hold anything that I could send you. So wear my pink petty with my warm warm love & if its too big - I am sure it is far too big for you or for me puff it out with love. Since I wrote to you I have been in my familiar land of counterpane. The cold got through as I knew it would and one wing only wags. As to Doctor Manouhkin I got the Mountain to phone Paris yesterday & found he was absent & only there from time to time, tres rarement. It was impossible for the secretary to say when. So that doesnt sound very hopeful. I am disappointed. I had made him my ‘miracle'. One must have a miracle. Now Im without one & looking round for another . . . Have you any suggestions? [To Dorothy Brett, 19 December 1921.]