Perhaps if she were to go into the
country, where she could see woods and fields, that it might go better.
She was from Vermland, and it was perfectly clear to her that she
wished to begin the book with that province. First of all she would
write about the place where she had grown up. It was a little homestead,
far removed from the great world, where many old-time habits and customs
were retained. She thought that it would be entertaining for children to
hear of the manifold duties which had succeeded one another the year
around. She wanted to tell them how they celebrated Christmas and New
Year and Easter and Midsummer Day in her home; what kind of house
furnishings they had; what the kitchen and larder were like, and how the
cow shed, stable, lodge, and bath house had looked. But when she was to
write about it the pen would not move. Why this was she could not in the
least understand; nevertheless it was so.
True, she remembered it all just as distinctly as if she were still
living in the midst of it. She argued with herself that since she was
going into the country anyway, perhaps she ought to make a little trip
to the old homestead that she might see it again before writing about
it. She had not been there in many years and did not think it half bad
to have a reason for the journey.
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