My dearest, up in the aerie, it is unbelievably gorgeous out, I should be outside writing to you while sipping from my glass of wine. The sun is shining, temperature's mild, things are greening up fast, chickens are wandering over to our yard, cats out on the porch are basking in the light. I am missing you very much and at the same time feel a sense of great wellbeing and happiness. I've got a pot pie baking in the oven, that I made with a phyllo pastry crust and leftover turkey mixed into a sauce of stock, onion, mushrooms, carrots, peas, and a bit of milk for cream. Today was a day of domesticities that way, and I enjoyed myself. Stopped by a shop I really like that in its attic loft sells beautiful high-end remnants for a song. We need new pillowcases, I like to bring my own sheets to Brooklyn, and I stopped by a big-box store yesterday that just opened (I had two $10 gift cards that they'd mailed to our house as teasers) and sheets are just ridiculously overpriced, I'm not going to spend $18 plus tax on two harsh-white not very nice cases made in China. So today I came away with a length of sprightly tiny green gingham, smooth and soft, for $13, which is more than I usually spend there, and when I rummaged through my sewing things when I got home, I found some fine white-and-green striped cotton that will make four more cases. That fabric I probably purchased for all of a dollar or two. I've measured and cut the pieces already and figure that (counting thread) for $15-$16 I'll have, once I'm done, six beautiful fresh new pillowcases.

My dearest, this is a kind of "midwinter spring" time - the light is so refreshingly warm, yet it's too cold to open the windows and let in the air. So I'm between worlds. It'll be nice in B'klyn, with the windows open, I'm sure they will be, spring - the full-force warm kind - always seemed to hit for real around April 15. I'm looking forward to being in shirtsleeves or naked or in underwear or not or whatever, as the mood and hour (the latter possibly having little to do with anything) strike, in various modes of mostly, and very comfortable, déshabille, yours too. You have beautiful hands darling, I look forward to seeing them, touching them, holding them, intertwining my fingers with yours, experiencing your hands, regarding them occupied with something other than peeling a clementine.

Very many kisses, darling. Sleep tight.

***