A piece in the paper quoting one of Sibelius’ daughters — She said he left behind no unpublished music, which spiked all rumors about an eight[h] symphony. How could such a rich powerful stream of creation (the greatest in the 20th century) suddenly dry up? – A tragedy —
We had just barely got into our car when a violent storm broke loose, with lightning, and strong gusts of wind. It was very exciting driving thru the city at such a time – reflections of lights, and lightning in the wet asphalt. A real equinoctial storm.
The unusual warm sunny weather continues.
P.M. to Zimmerman Road painting. Again in the swampy (dry now) tract enclosed on three sides by woods. Sultry –dry –the air filled with the constant hum of insects; millions of tiny flies, sunlit –Paint all afternoon. It is a constant struggle from beginning to end.
The fourth day of clear sparkling weather. Colder this morning. To be able to be afield this weather!
The beauty of Thoreau’s thoughts increases for me every time I open the book. I anticipate reading his Spring, Summer & Winter almost as much as I anticipate an early morning walk in the Dutchman’s.
Noon sunlight in September! We do not notice the sun when it is in the same latitude in spring as [there] are no trees to reflect it. One has the feeling of criminal neglect by working on these days. The ideal pursuit is to sit on the sunny side of a hill and dream & speculate.
A clear sunny day, not a cloud in the sky all day – Cool in the morning, but quite warm later on.
A.M. – Removed the “Snowy Owl and Winter Moon” from its frame and put the “Pillar of Cloud and Milkweed” in its place, and hung it in the living room –
To West Valley Tea Room for dinner. On the way in. noticed two beautiful, healthy goldenrod plants growing out of a decayed knot-hole in a maple-tree. Called Bertha’s attention to it, and said I must make a drawing of it after dinner.
To make the drawing I sat on the porch – While I was drawing, a group of people came in and were curious about what I was doing. They had not noticed the golden-rod. One of the men in the party decided to take some photos of it. Bertha asked him to send us a photo, and he gave her a card for our name and address.
A mysterious dark day – with a raw damp wind straight from the north –