Burrell’s Journal, Entry 2

13 January 1912

I couldn’t wait for everyone to hit the hay tonight, so that I might sneak a look into Uncle Ed’s Inventorium (that’s what HE calls his basement!) The snow was so crunchy from the frigid air, I thought it would give me away. He was examining all kinds of tiny gears and sprockets, wires, and things I didn’t recognize, through a magnifying glass. What ever it is he’s inventing, it’s smaller than a bread box, that’s for sure! He suddenly turned out the lights to go upstairs, and I thought for certain I was a dead man! Had he not dropped his papers and turned the other way, he surely could have seen me with my nose literally stuck to that icy window.

!!Poetic thought: “Into each man’s life a little frost must bite.” I swear, someday I’m going to publish a book of Poetic Expressions.