Snow storm last night.
Still isolated. I came across a fine record of poetic imagination in "My Gardener" by an Indian writer, Rabindah of Tagore. Form and suggestiveness seem to unite in his picture poems; they are admirable and make excellent reading for a quiet, thoughtful hour.
Still isolated. We had a heavy snow storm last night. This was about the heaviest we have had yet .In the morning the snow was packed in the window corners and also against the doors. The camp looked a real picture, everything being covered with a beautiful white, glistering garment, which shone like polished silver in the morning sunlight. We were drilled in our hut in the morning & in the afternoon went for a march through Shrewton. Needless to say we pelted one another with snow all the way & in the village pelted all the boys & girls who dared to show