Mar. 26, 1926(con’t)
     It was with great content that I sat here enveloped in the romance of March weather thinking of my family.  Memories of March days when I was a youth in art school and had puerile dreams of myself sitting on the bank of some swirling muddy stream with the warm sunlight pouring over the steamy earth and pussy willows gleaming on its banks, surrounded by a group of towselled headed youngsters.  Then they were all boys – I thought I wanted boys and didn’t know then it made no difference. The mother of these imaginary children was always hazy -  So I sit here in the March sunlight the dream fulfilled – no children around but with me just the same.
      From here on I belonged to the March day completely and the remainder of the walk was as rare a pleasure as I have had in a long time.  The land went steadily upward; a grove of pine trees + soggy pasture land – The dirt road leading upward- near the top of the hill find a huge deep snow drift untouched by thaws – from here the lake is visible - just beyond the snow drift the tops of muddy clumps had been dried by the wind + sun.  What memories it recalled.  What a thrill when we were boys it was to see the first dry mud + dirt on the street in front of our house, and with that, a whole succession of Saturday rambles in The Bottoms or Trotter Swamp + covered bridge.  A few steps more + I caught sight of a blue-bird on a fence.  It gave me a thrill