Oregon state outline with mountain landscape

The proofs came back from the printer this morning with the green dot in the wrong place again. Mr Haskell swears Portland sits where he left it, but I measured it twice against the old survey and he will not hear it. I told him the dot marks the city, not the whole state, and he said the state is the state and I should stop fussing over one speck of ink. So I have left the dot where it is and written a note in the margin to remind myself who was right.

You will laugh, but I went up to the Cascades on Sunday with the sketchbook. Took the bus as far as Government Camp and walked the last mile in the rain. The mountain stayed hidden behind cloud until about four, then it came out all at once, pink along the top as if someone had lit it from inside. I drew it three times. Every drawing looked like a child's version of the thing, all hard edges, and yet the real peak never once looked like a line at all.

The shading is the hardest part, the little dots for the hills. Dad taught us never to hurry it, that one dot placed carelessly will show for years. I thought of him at the bench, pricking away at paper with a pin while the kettle went cold behind him.

Come home for Easter if you can. The birds on the proof are still too big. I keep meaning to make them smaller.

Love, Margaret