"Blinding white tops of clouds in morning – cold wind – On Train – Playing of shadows over fields – Late afternoon – whispy (sic) sun-rainbow-shaped cloud - ripple of pale gold over trees -"
The quiet street – green bright harsh green trees stand motionless in the deadened air, - the calm afterglow in the N.W. – people sit around on porches
4:15 P.M. – a dazzlingly brilliant sun high in the hot blue western sky bringing out with painful intensity the harsh acrid yellow greens of the new verdure— the air clean and bright, a slight breeze from the northeast –
Cold weather – lowering skies and rain at times. Mounted some more 1917 sketches...
The Elm Tree after Rain & Lavender & Old Lace will be enlarged by how much I have not determined...
...amid the thrashing of the wind-riddled trees, and the roll of thunder, the cat-bird from the depths of the box-elder tree, sang copiously.
Morning – at very first light – very faint chippering calls of birds (Swallows?) Later robins and a red-bird...
"June! And I will let that exclamation mark tell it all – for now..."
Then comes the church bell and an inexpressibly sad mournful sound, recalling lonely feelings of childhood and black depths under trees by old forsaken churches –
I became the mental wanderer again today — I traveled far —