The church bells sound tonight as they did in childhood.
Strange how Summer and Fall should meet all at once. Last night was deep August – stagnant, heavy, a huge thunderstorm booming to the North.
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.
End of the day music – last two movements of Ma Vlast and then the High Castle again –
I find that my mind is more impressionable when I am divested of all my clothing. The same is true when we are alone in the fields.
I recalled how in childhood we used to amuse ourselves by sitting by a long white dusty road and watch[ing] the shadows march along in endless succession. We could see them coming...
You Fool! For indulging in fruitless, cheap arrangements! Does the spring beauty worry how the buttercup grows?
I sat on a grassy bank by the road, with a wide spreading view to the west, a pasture and dense woods at my back. The day had subsided into a calm dreamy evening - vague misty.
But oh - the sunset! Coming after the long dark day, an ordinary sunset... would have been thrice welcome. But to crown such a day with a sunset like tonights! –‘twas a wonderful act!
There is a beauty about a rainy day that is hard to express. There is a sort of rest + peacefulness about it. We seem nearer to the creator on such a day— the barriers have been let down.—