Thursday October 15, 1936-
     A day of great peace and happiness. Out in the car, on dirt road south east of Attica.
     First stop at the little hemlock grove east of Marilla to get decayed needles for any wild flower gardens. It was pleasant here in the dusky gloom; sunlight, sifting thru, and a gentle cool breeze blowing. I enjoyed digging with my hands into the yielding pungent decayed vegetation.
     Eat lunch by the four maples and old house, in full sunlight - afterwards in the field adjoining the road to look for mushrooms. In one area that had had manure spread over it I found them growing in profusion. The pleasure of mushrooming in the fall is partly sight and partly “feel” - That sense of firm lusciousness conveyed to the brain thru the fingers as we pick them is hard to describe. And in all nature there is no pink quite like that of the underside of a “young” mushroom - a warm sensuous color that exerts its influence all the way thru the brown pinks of older specimens to the deep blacks of fully ripe ones. The white topped ones can be seen for some distance and are unmistakable in their character. To the sensations may added that of found - the strident call of blue jays, that