April 2, 1917
Mowat P.O., Canoe Lake
Dear Winnie,
I had meant to stop in Huntsville when I came up but the train connections weren’t good so I had to go straight through. I haven’t written any letters yet, this is my very first letter from here. I hope this makes it up for you.
I’ve been up here for over a week now and I’m still getting settled in with Shannon and Annie. There’s four other guests at the lodge now. There was only two when I arrived but two more came in a couple of days ago. They came from Ottawa on doctor’s orders. The Highland Inn’s not taking consumptives so Shannon’s making good business by taking them in. I told Shannon that Mowat Lodge is only for the sickly and the poor artists and add that line to his letterhead.
As for my plans, I’ll be staying at Mowat until the ice goes out. I’ll be camping afterwards, if the weather holds. Judging by the ice, that won’t be until May. I’m going to apply for a Guide’s license. That means I’ll need to staying close to the lodge when there’s an occasion to guide. Shannon’s got a good fleet of boats now, and he’ll be ready to hire them out with me as a guide.
A few days ago I did a good sketch just in front of your cottage. You’ve got a good view from there. I’d say it’s a better view than what you have in the summertime. I checked around the place and it doesn’t look like any animals got in, so you shouldn’t have any surprises when you open it up.
I am hoping you’ll be able to make it up to cottage in early May. You should try to make it as early as possible in the month to get some good time in before the bugs get really bad.
Please give my regards to your parents and to your sister. Tell them I enjoyed your family’s hospitality last Thanksgiving. I won’t be making it for Easter, but you’ll be here soon enough. You’ll be pleased at the amount of painting I’ve done. It’s hard work each day, but when I see the sketches altogether it’s rewarding.
I’ll post this letter myself at the train station this morning. Mowat P.O. has a curious postmaster. Her name is Annie.
Yours truly,
Tom
Tom Thomson's Last Spring 