Monday –Apr. 18, 1932–
     A day like yesterday –
     Hear song-sparrow in morning before it is light.
     A.M. to Buffalo shopping, etc. – P.M. dawdle around studio, redding it up.  Dissatisfied with myself for not going out to paint –
                                                               Tuesday, Apr. 19, 1932[1]
      A day of such perfect beauty and happiness as makes last Friday fade away.  Never, I believe have I been in such complete harmony with nature all day long as I was today-
     Up and had to goad myself into the decision to go.  Hurry and just make the7:42bus.  To Clinton and Bowen – Back then to old tower house to paint.  A raw air, but little wind – dense luminous mists over the east – Meadowlarks clear silvery whistle keeps me company while I paint –
     Finished, east too Bowen, down Bowen out across fields towards swampy woods that had caught my eye.  A great discovery for me – one of those haphazard swamps with gaunt trees, rotting logs, and uprooted trees – great white sunlight pours down – all things raise to a high value that makes all distances vast and elemental – Spring beauties here – their fragile beauty is always new to me, and fills me with that inexplicable yearning sadness that always comes with spring – toads (so I mistakenly thought) singing –
     Tired yet from my first sketch, I wander undecidedly around trying to determine upon a new subject.  East skirting swamp to another woods, with larger trees and of greater extent – Decide to eat my lunch.  Find a sunny  log – it is noon – a marvelous moment – the sun streams down thru the black haze of fine branches flies humming – lunch over I stretched out on the log, face to sun, eyes closed and let all the sounds and sensations pour in on me – blissful moments – my heart is full of humble thankfulness for such beauty