– the waning moon high in the east, made all the trees tall, dark and mysterious –
…There are few sounds, other than the wind in the tree-tops. One or two katydids. From a distance comes the song of a cicada.
You are completely dead—devoid of any emotional attitude towards nature—wake up—be bold, make caricatures & conventionalizations.
Sunday morning I spent in doing some studies for the hunt picture; but at noon when I went out to dinner, I knew indoor work was over for the day
It struck me that solitary plants or trees etc, were as much natural phenomena as a storm on a sunset + worth making pilgrimages to see.
After all it is this song—this crescendo, which is like the wind, now soft & then loud that is truly expressive of this season...
... Pal looked for Red. He became almost frantic going from one door to another, and then going to Sally and just begging her to either produce Red or tell him where he was. It was really pathetic.
Exaggerate dkning of Trees to blk at top with a white outline next it –
Trees have a lacy edge at sunset time – at twilight, they commence to thicken —
Presently the moon came up and added mystery to the woods and fields. Fireflies came forth and began floating lazily around. And indeed this was the best part for me—they mystery of the night in the woods.
Sky is big & broad, fields are unending — all things cry out to the mind — ‘Expand, Expand! Grow!’