Dear Marjorie,

I wish you could see how pretty and vibrant the wildflowers are this time of year. It’s as if Jackson Pollack’s paintbrush spattered the hills with shocking reds and yellows and blues. Enclosed, I made for you a small sketch, though it does not do them justice. Hope all is well on your end,

Josephine

Dear Marjorie,

I visited my friend Beatrice recently, which is always nice. She has a little cottage beside a beautiful giant waterfall. It looks so majestic, but oh how it roars. It is a force to be reckoned with and deafening. Perhaps she doesn’t notice because she lives alone, silly thing. We spent all afternoon with our needlepoint and cup after cup of hot ginger tea. Quite nice.

Regards,
Josephine

Dear Marjorie,

How are the children? I hope they are not putting up too much of a fuss. It’s weird, there are no children in this town. Not even a toy store. Only adults. I wonder why that is. Well I keep busy, still. Today I am baking pumpernickel bread. So many loafs; loaf after loaf. It always sells well at the market. Give everyone kisses for me,

J.

Dear Marjorie,
Today I am making a dress for my neighbor, old Miss Patty. She isn’t good with the needle anymore on account of her arthritis, so I let her pick out one she wanted. She’s always been the nicest old woman to me, it’s the least I could do. I enclosed a swatch of fabric. Isn’t the periwinkle color just darling?

Love,
J.

Dear Marjorie,

I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while, I was sick for a spell. The doctors had quite the time deciding what was wrong. They said too much excitement can work me into a tempest and I must stay home for a while with peace and quiet. A nice man comes by and makes sure I’m alright and that I’ve taken my pills. I’ve been reading a lot of Keats lately. I’ve always wished I could write poetry. Alas, let it be left to someone more deft with a pen than I.

Regards,
J.

Dear Marjorie,

I am getting along fine now, enjoying the sunshine and this fine spring we are having. Lately I’ve been tending to my rose garden and oh, how it blooms. My favorite are the dusky pink flowers I’ve had of late. I’ve pressed some of them for you and included them in the envelope. The entire room I write in is filled with their intoxicating scent. I hope you are able to smell it where you are.

Josephine

Mrs. Pennigram,

I am writing to inform you of Miss Josephine Turner’s passing. You were her sole correspondence and a wonderful friend to her. Being confined to one room as she was, I am assured you assisted in bettering the days she spent here. Please do not hesitate to contact with questions or further information.

Regards,
Edward Proct
Director
Mirth Asylum