I think that the mind to which the merry-go-round times are banal is in itself trite and unimaginative – take a quite hot Sunday in Summer – the merry-go-round organ has a quaint sadness about it – with a background of booming thunder -
     A week of unusual heat –
     Today too hot to stir about – go for walk in the evening up in the fields – the sun just about to touch the horizon – it glows softly blurred by the heat haze – a hot warm breeze stirs lazily over the wilting fields – the meadows in appearance still belong to June, but they are covered with a dense stifling brown haze –
     Late at night as I lay in bed – the full moon behind the maple tree outside had a peculiar sultry glare about it such as I never saw before
     The pulsating insect chorus of Autumn commenced tonight - [1]