My Dears,

As the last rays of sunshine dance with the evening breeze, and the branches oblige with a wave offering, I sit by my desk with quill in hand and give thanks for this lovely Sunday. It has been a day of rest in the Lord.

After our service today, the ladies of the parish gathered for our monthly sewing circle, and I enjoyed their delightful company immensely. We talked of baby names, and I shared with them "Cordelia Elisabeth," my name of preference should Mr. Wordsworth and myself be blessed with another daughter one day. I sewed a baby bonnet for a young mother-to-be in our parish, and I then hastened home to spend the remaining afternoon with my children.

We scampered outside for several hours with Grandmother Kathryn, and followed with a drive to Willow Marsh Farm with Grandmother Rose to purchase fresh cow's milk. Grandmother Rose prefers the fresh farm milk to the local grocer's milk. It is a bit pricier, and some may say not prudent in such times as these, but the drive is lovely and the children enjoyed themselves.

My children are now in the washtub and I must hasten to a close. Bedtime is upon us presently, and I will retreat to a quiet evening, whilst I await the return of Mr. Wordsworth.

I am obliged to catch up on some of my letters, and a baby quilt awaits some sewing ... this gentle evening may render itself a willing partner to my mild ambitions ...

My Love,
Lucinda