18 November 1922

La Prieuré, Fontainebleau, Avon

   It is intensely cold here. Quite as cold as Switzerland. But it does not matter in the same way. One has not the time to think about it. There is always something happening and people are a support. I spent the winter afternoon yesterday scraping carrots - masses of carrots - & half way through I suddenly thought of my bed in the corner of that room at the Chalet des Sapins. . . Oh how is it possible there is such a difference between that loneliness and isolation (just waiting for you to come in & you knowing I was waiting) and this. People were running in and out of the kitchen. Portions of the first pig we have killed were on the table and greatly admired. Coffee was roasting in the oven. Barker cluttered through with his milk pail. I must tell you, darling, my love of cows persists. We now have three. They are real beauties - immense - with short curly hair? fur? wool? between their horns. Geese, too, have been added to the establishment. They seem full of intelligence. I am becoming absorbed in animals, not to watch only but to know how to care for them & to know about them. Why does one live so far away from all these things? Bees we shall have later. I am determined to know about bees. [To J. M. Murry, 19 November 1922.]