Summer attains its greatest dignity & power in August. In this dignity & power exist simultaneously a sinister quality, and a deeply mystical one.
"By evening the air was cleared; the clouds were scattered by a cold hard wind. The Sunset was beautiful and was like unto one in the wintertime..."
From Little Valley we took the back road up to East Otto – at a turn in the road a large “stand” of thoroughwort and tall yellow cone-flower attracted us and we stopped.
All day on Sphinx & Milky Way — In the morning it went slow, but by afternoon, ideas began to flow, & I succeeded in painting in the moth, the nicotiana, & other minor parts. The work went well.
To the by-road on the Attica-Varysburg road, leading east at the school-house- wandering over hills & woods. Finding & picking my first real bouquet of hepaticas.
If all musical sounds were to be forever silenced – orchestras, binds, human voices, birds & insects - and I were allowed to retain one sound to cheer me, I would ask that the wind might play in the tree-tops.
Up at about eight o’clock. A heavy bank of white mist hovered low over the town, which, tho it obscured actual sunlight...
These last three days have been wonderful things - days of clear skies, and warm fresh air... The sun was hot but not oppressive and its light seemed to shed a yellowness..."
I spent the after noon making notes and studies for the three pictures I started in 1939 (The Great Hill, Late Afternoon in the Hills, and Appalachian Highway.)