woodcutter at Miskowitz, of Miskowitz
“I fall trees and split logs for the ovens. The woods are quiet, which is more than I can say for my brother's house.”
Things Havel had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Tuesday after Whitsun, at Vespers
Prokop's hand is worse. He cannot hold the cleaver long. I chopped twice the wood today to keep the ovens hot and the coin coming in. My shoulders ache. I am too tired for supper.
Nota scribaeHe wiped his brow constantly while speaking and stared at the floor.
the eve of St John in May, at None
Someone asked why I stay late in the underbrush when the work is done. It is none of their concern. I am looking for a piece of deadwood I dropped. Let them mind their own business.
the third day of Easter week, at Prime
Soldiers on the Kuttenberg road today. Hungarians. I stayed deep in the timber stands until they passed. The woods are safer than the path. I do not understand this war, but I know better than to walk into it.
You have the right of it. They drank Pritoky dry and paid in nothing but threats.
the Tuesday after St Gregory, at Vespers
Jan is sleeping with the sheep again. He says the spirits speak to him in the cold. I told him he is addled from the frost. Thomas laughed at him at the tavern. I turned my back and went home.
They are real, Havel. They whisper when the wind dies down.
If he prayed to Mother's memory instead of listening to the wind, he would sleep better.
Nota scribaeHe sighed heavily before beginning this entry.
the day after Ash Wednesday, at Compline
I have lost something in the woods. A small wooden saint my father carved for me. It is worth no silver, but I must find it. If anyone sees it near the old pine stands, tell me.
You should not carry such things into the thickets. Father would say you were careless.
I miss him too, brother. We will look when the sun is up.
Nota scribaeThe man was visibly upset, though he tried to hide it by staring at his boots.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
If Joseph fixed the dairy roof, we wouldn't need every groschen you make in the woods, Havel.
My hand is fine, lad. Just a stiffness from the damp.