My dear Theo,

At last I’ve received news about my furniture, the man who has it has been ill all the time, having been struck by the horn of one of the bulls while helping to unload them. So his wife writes to me that it was because of this that they’d put it off from one day to the next, but that on Saturday, today in other words, they’d send it; they have no luck, the wife having been ill too, and not yet being completely recovered.1 By the way, there wasn’t one word of reproach in the letter, except that it had upset them that I hadn’t come to see them before leaving, that upset me too.

Enclosed I must send you an order for some colours.2 I have another study that’s in the genre of the Harvest that’s at your place in the room where the piano is.3 Fields viewed from a height with a road on which there’s a small carriage.4

Currently I’m working on a field of poppies in some lucerne.5

And I have a vineyard study,6 which Mr Gachet liked very much the last time he came to see.

For the moment I have nothing else to say, a letter came from Mother who had been at Nuenen and was very much longing to see you come and to see the little one again. A firm handshake for both of you.

Ever yours,

Vincent.