July 10, 1925.
My dearest Walter:
Just two months ago tonight! And I have been so happy ever since. I shall never forget what a queer feeling I had when I said “yes.” I didn’t realize then just why I said it except I just felt like I simply couldn’t help it. I felt like I couldn’t be happy without you, and sure enough I don’t believe I could. Life has been such wonderful happiness since then that I often wonder if I had been truly happy before. I always have enjoyed life but had never before enjoyed such true happiness and contentment. I do hope you feel that way some too. At any rate, the tenth of every month, especially May, is going to be a red letter day in my calendar of life.
July 10, 1925 (Ina)
I am sure this has been a busy day for you. I have thought of you so many many times and hoped that you were enjoying your work. I imagine Dr. K.S. has been unloading some of his surplus energy today. You mustn’t work off that flesh you gained while in Uvalde. I don’t want to look like your twin sister by the time you return this fall.
Have you had any refreshing showers since your arrival? Someone said that the thermometer registered 109º yesterday here which sounds a little unreasonable to one who was not present, but if it was 109 yesterday, it must have been at least 112 today. About 6:30 this evening Mama, Papa, Claudelle and Lucile Johnson and I went to the Milow swimming hole about nine miles from town and enjoyed a most delightful swim. The water was deep and as clear as a crystal, so you can imagine how much refreshed we felt after a most melting day at home. To make it even more pleasant, a nice shower came up and cooled everything off so nicely that it seems perfectly reasonable that a blanket should be comfortable before morning. We got out of the river soon after the rain started for fear we would get wet. Lucile J. said to give you her regards.
Walter, I wish you could be here tonight. You have no idea how lonesome that poor porch swing looks out there in the cool breezes all by itself. I haven’t the courage to try entertaining it alone, but if you were here, I am sure you could make the evening much more pleasant for both the porch swing and myself. Or shall I go tell it to wait a few months? Perhaps that is the most reasonable thing to do.
The coyotes must realize the importance of the day because they are competing with the little screech owl in commemorating it. They first have a heated discussion as to what they shall sing, then they peal forth with a song well calculated to raise the dead.
It is getting late now, so I must lay my “weary”? head to rest.
I love you oh so much.
July 11, 1925
This letter should have been mailed this afternoon but just as we began dressing to go down town it started to raining and it kept it up until dark – not much, but just enough to make us remember that way back in history on two or three occasions cars had been known to stick in the mud on the road between J.N. Lewis’s ranch and town. Perhaps you have a faint recollection of one or two such occasions. I am afraid tho that the romance would be lacking if just Claudelle and I happened to have such a misfortune. I enjoy thinking of yours and my Friday night experience with the rain, wind, hail and wrapping paper.
It gives me a lost feeling when I realize you can’t be with us tomorrow. Mama, Papa, Claudelle and all of us always enjoyed our Sundays with you so much. I am truly sorry you can’t be with us tomorrow and I am sure you will be too when I tell you that you wouldn’t have to eat pineapple cake this time. The truth of the business is that I am through with my pineapple cake stage in cooking and I have launched out on chocolate pie. I made two today and really would be glad if you could be here for the next few Sundays for the course in chocolate pies. However, your days are numbered and I am afraid you are going to have to endure my cakes, pies etc. for many many years to come, and, by the way, I surely do wish you could cultivate a taste for coffee because I really believe I can make a success of making it.
I wish you could be here to-morrow because the Willys-Knight is so nice and clean. I arose early this morning and gave it a bath (’tis Saturday you know) before breakfast. I think it would be nice to slip off after League and drive around during the church service. However, things being as they are, church time will find me piously seated up in the choir with my thoughts, in spite of the fact that I enjoy hearing Bro. Campbell preach, wandering across the country to a certain Bird in Jacksonville, Fla. in which I am especially interested.
I am very sorry that I couldn’t mail this letter today and am especially anxious to take a peep in Box 284 as I think I might have a letter there. It may be that it hasn’t had time to come, but I like to get it at the earliest possible moment after it arrives.
Goodnight and pleasant dreams.
I love you.