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hope you’re not working too hard, Daddy, and that you have enough time to give Sturdy his daily walks. He must be feeling a little lost with both Ivah and me away at once .
    Love to you both,
Urla
    St. Lawrence, Newfoundland
    November 20, 1933
    Dear Mom, Pop, Howard, Edith, and King,
    Well hello from your daughter-in-law. I’m sorry it has taken me this long to check in from our new home, but we have finally settled in and I thought it would be a good time to write.
    We really couldn’t ask for nicer people to stay with. Their house is among the nicest in the town. Many of the houses are very rudimentary, some of them elevated on posts with no cellars and no attics, and it always strikes me as odd that the place with the worst weather has the poorest house construction. The wood around here doesn’t lend itself to strong beams and grand houses. It is short scrub pine and spruce, and hardly any use for firewood even. Most of the houses are heated with small chunks of wood and also coal that comes in from Nova Scotia, Canada. There’s usually only one stove and that’s where everyone gathers as the weather turns cold. On the first cold evening, Don and I turned back the bedspread only to find beach rocks, hot from the stove, inviting us in to a toasty bed. What a treat!
    I would love to take a photograph to give you a better idea of our surroundings, but instead I will test my descriptive abilities to make you feel as though you are here.
    The hills all run down to the sea to make this lovely protected harbor. At the head of the harbor, the rocks run straight up for hundreds of feet forming Cape Chapeau Rouge. On the other side is a matching granite formation, slightly smaller, called Calapoose.
    There are no marshes or dunes or flats. In fact there are no easy transitions from one piece of geography to the next. The sea meets an abrupt end everywhere it touches whether it’s a cliff face, a rocky beach, or a big patch of alders. In many ways, it’s like so much around here: all hard edges, hard lives, and hard stories. I will admit it is overwhelming to me at times and I long for the softness of my life at home.
    On the other hand, I’m starting to see glimpses beneath the hard exteriors that are intriguing. When I expected that soft, idyllic image of a remote village, I now realize the people would have been soft too. The hardness is an adjustment, but I’m starting to see that the trade off in terms of people may well be worth it.
    Don is terribly busy at the mine and working seven days a week. He is determined to get fluorspar on the wharf as soon as possible. I am glad he now has the company of Doc Smith, who entertains us at night with stories and is a great bridge player too.
    Mom, you would be thrilled to learn he is an ideal husband. Just as you counseled, I left his socks exactly where he dropped them for two days and he got the message and has been more attentive ever since—well-considered advice!
    I must also write Ivah today and want to get both these letters on the Glencoe , hopefully tomorrow. Sometimes gusty winds will keep the mail boat from entering the harbor, so I will pray hard that these get to you tomorrow.
    I hope this finds you all well and excited for your Thanksgiving feast. We will sure miss the turkey and trimmings, and you all of course.
    Love,
Urla
    Water Street
St. Lawrence, Newfoundland
    November 21, 1933
    Dear Ivah,
    I hope you notice my official address now that I am a chatelaine on Water Street. Thanks for the news from Bucknell and your booklist. I love hearing about your classes and all the work there is to do. Don’t be too taken in by your roommate, as I’m sure she has moments of feeling very doubtful herself, even if she hides it well.
    I wonder could you send me some books from the list I’ll attach to this letter? I had better get busy if I am to start honing my skills as a world famous writer! I have looked about in people’s homes, but I’ve yet to see a book or a