May 8, 1884-- It is spring again, but the green only recalls death. The gardens of this old rancho--all overgrown--put me in mind of the canyon where the cross is. Mr. Vernon is a good man and husband. I will have his child in late summer. With the new bridge and a railroad from the mountains, I hope that Father will bring John down from the camp all the year. It seems so long since the floods in February brought them home. I miss him and worry that he is not schooled. Mary has learnt to write her name. Mr. Vernon will have John back when he is old enough to work in the cannery.