1943
May 1, 1935 – A dream (a subconscious urge while asleep) — someone said to me “You ought to go back to those old interpretations of nature again” and at once I was standing on a street near the edge of a strange town; it was raining; time was late summer and the reflections in the wet sidewalk of a group of maples seemed inexpressable.
Finish work on the painting started yesterday. The clean warm weather continues.
Parks, which have been set aside because they comprise natural wonders, and imposing views, are hopelessly banal.
I am feeling boundlessly happy – I can laugh at my morbid entry of several days ago – yet I feel so inanely joyous that I feel sure I must pay for it later –
A heavy fog at morning – Green lawns blend to lt blue mists...
A grey rainy morning neut grey blue mists –
Cleaning out shed, fixing driveway – playing records in studio.
Yesterday for lunch, we went to Chestnut Lodge for lunch—our favorite food—fried blue pike, clam chowder, French-fires, chef salad (Roquefort cheese dressing) preceded by cocktails—
Three days of warm, sunshiny weather – Growing things, held back by the unusually late season, seem to visibly grow before our eyes.
Saturday, Arthur & I went alone to my “Trillium Woods” south-east of Hamburg. It was truly a “red-letter” day for me, and I hope for him. I had long looked forward to just such a trip as this, that I would take with my boy; from the time he was a helpless baby I thought of the time when he could tramp with me in the woods. And he measured up to my highest expectations, entering into and enjoying hugely all the little things I hoped he would.