February 3, 1917
Another winter storm has come. About 8 inches of snow came down last night. Heavy stuff. It’s weighing down the branches and some are breaking off. The city has all but given up on clearing the smaller streets. Too much snow. The road down into the ravine is little more than a toboggan run. The cars can’t go on these roads anymore , only the horses and sleds and, of course, kids on toboggans.
I was out snowshoeing this afternoon and ran headlong into the Rosedale Women’s Snowshoeing Club. There was about a dozen of them, all bundled in sweaters and mufflers. I bid them good afternoon and gave the wide berth. I didn’t want to risk being presented with a white feather.
Back at the Shack I started a new canvas. It’s of geese flying south for the winter. Jim MacDonald said he was working on painting of wild ducks and I thought I’d try my hand at painting a scene of geese flying that I did at Round Lake in late summer. I’ll use the same composition in the sketch but I plan to set the canvas in late November. I’ll use the same colours that I used for the log drive canvas.
I should write some letters. I owe one to Father. One to Winnie too. I received a letter from George and he wants me to visit him in Connecticut in the spring. I don’t think I’d be able to afford the fare and back.
Tom Thomson's Last Spring 