November 29, 1930
     During a blizzard the night before Thanksgiving a flash of pink lightening and a clap of thunder – the wonder and mystery of nature were reborn –
     I have just received the Second Symphony of Sibelius –
     Its power and beauty overwhelm me – what a magnificent genius is Sibelius – all the torture of  barrenness and indecision that this autumn assailed me are dissolved in this elemental music – pictures and ideas pour in upon me – my joy is almost too great to be borne.
      It is Thanksgiving morning – I am on my morning walk – the storm has cleared for us – the middle of the sky is a vast cavern of blue – to the south east the brilliant sun rides along the subtly shaped tops of a great bank of cold blue gray clouds, almost black – somewhere a snow storm is raging – to the north a low bank of pinkish clouds – but here it is clear and cold and bright –
     I see a prehistoric meeting hall – abandoned – with wide crudely fashioned open windows all along the side – over the center of each window hangs the head of some animal – a moose, a bear or walrus, a reindeer, an eagle – old skins are scattered on the rough boards.  Thru the windows I see jagged lakes scattered thru a dismal swamp lands – black swans