Out Painting – A hot, misty muggy day. I had in mind the painting of the feeling of just such a day, naming a cat-tail marsh as a vehicle...
To see, in the upturned face of a child directed toward oneself, a look of complete trust, liking and admiration is to me one of the finest and at the same time most disconcerting experiences.
Employing daisies and buttercups (as the most familiar of childhood flowers) I found that they could not have even the slightest dark accent, but must be swimming in a glare of sunlight...
Reading in my journal of June & July 1915 — The rhapsodic utterings of that period expressive of my pure unattached joy in a marvelous world, fills me now with unutterable sadness and longing — almost of terror. Could I but once again walk in those lush meadows of wonder.
The early morning wind was there, but how much water has gone under the bridge since I first dreamed of misty wind thru early morning willows –
I want to make it the epitome of July, tho I suspect it will be at the end the incident of a special day in a field of ripe wheat.
A sullen gray day, with slight rain at times. Cool but strangely oppressive. Towards evening, the air cleared, a strong wind sprang up, and the temperature went down.
To country S.E. of E. Aurora sketching...
"Arise at 4:00 in anticipation of fishing trip...we soon see the sun himself, a rose gold glow in the sky. One of the most beautiful things about a fog is that it eliminates the horizon."
Evening – the Insitute group out – a good bunch – I enjoyed them, and the pleasure to show them my pictures,