- Targaryen:
…brings nothing but wind, cutting north wind, howling ceaseless these weeks. But spring holds true, and we will see summer. Fields of wheat and barley are well in for those hale few left to eat it, and a good rain to grow it. Perhaps luck will turn now that the sickness has passed us. The bays are middling…
- Tyrell:
…warm, mist in the morning that does not last. Squirrels fattening, dogs losing their winter coats. But even one green as I knows that never has a spring been so mournful. Ravens bring word of the worst kind, and more every day. The sickness fells one in two in Oldtown. Likewise from King’s Landing and Lannisport, highborn and low are…
- Prester:
The summer is still holding well and thus far no ravens bring sign of winter. A welcome respite after the ill spring and its lists of the dead and dying. The days are hot, save when a scrap of cloud comes to shield us, but none are fat with rain. Fields grow browner by the hour. Many a farmer has come for help, sun-addled and red from carting pails from the river too long.
- Bracken:
I would let them suffer if my master did not teach to always support the bottom. Stores of sourleaf will soon be exhausted unless a fashion for hats comes to pass. Our animals are wiser, and rest in the heat of the day, stalking prey or foraging only at dusk and dawn. Skies bluer than blue, but all long to see flocks of thunderclouds.
- Frey:
Three cattle were found dead where they stood these last days, and a woodcutter went out before the snows nigh unto a moon ago and has not yet returned. Ravens raise spirits high with their news of bold deeds and exploits at a tourney at King’s Landing, though not as high as sign of season’s change would…
- Stark:
…do. Snow in drifts as high as a grown man’s hip in places. The Seven are merciful at last, tempering the bone-breaking cold, and even sending some days of good strong sun. Clouds are soft and round, but pass by quickly bringing their snow elsewhere. Two sacks of grain lost to rats. Ravens fly out today to ask if sign of winter’s end is…
- Tully:
…brings word from the great tourney at Harrenhal of scandal among the high lords. It is all the smallfolk can talk about, it seems, for all it is none of their concern. The young make too much of such foolishness; it will soon blow over. Gentle breezes are easterly and southerly in turn and very mild. Fields are greening…
- Redwyne:
…yeare end radish on the table. And yet there is no white raven – this is no true spring. Still, the touch of spring in winter is a kindness not to be refused. We are blessed with rain and sun in good mix. Rain enough to fill a flask two knuckles deep. Aurochs sighted by the river in fine fettle, and fish in plenty. Two crocks of mustard…
- Lannister:
…summer’s start. I have seen hotter days, but not many. The sun beats us dry and reminds me of other droughts in years no others live to recall. The Old sentinel’s needles have all gone brown. Soon it will be firewood, not that any care to light a fire. Few clouds pass by, and those few no more than torn scraps of wool.
- Greyjoy:
…the air does not stir. Milk sours quickly, and tempers. Unrest and bloodshed in Lannisport, or so the ravens bring. It leaves me fearful, as I had thought the days of war ended. I Hope it will come to a quick end, but fear the last time I said as much, my prophecy was unsound. This time I have no prediction.
- Mormont:
I smile to think of the slip of a boy who began this journal. The sun is strong and warming to all but I – cold has settled into my bones and will not leave it again. For all the summer has been long and winter is coming any day, at my age I fear I will not live to see another white raven. Perhaps just as well, for who yearns for the years…
- Baratheon:
…of hard winter sure to follow a ten-year summer? A fortnight of cloud and rain – the thunderclouds that visit are angry, hurling spears of lightning that come loud and close, and rain enough that the river rises from its bed. Lightning struck in the wood and lit a fire. Rain soon ended it, but now an oak spanning…
