April 14, 1937-
      A day of puttering around in the yard, fixing a hinge here, putting a hook there, & cleaning up. At mid-afternoon it starts to rain, and in desperation I make a little sketch out of my bedroom window. It was almost like a prayer- a prayer to be free of my dullness and want of creative impulse.
                                                                          April 15, 1937-
     The incredible beauty of hepaticas in a spring rain. I always feel that I am not up to this miracle, that something is holding me back, to keep me from realizing it as fully as I should. There is nothing else in the whole calendar quite like this, and it will be so brief.
                                                                  April 19, 1937- Monday-
     In the fields between the railroad and Union Rd. the only sign of life in the barren waste of dead grass, are countless numbers of little emerald feathery spears of awakening yarrow. How beautiful they are!
In front of a house I saw a clump of chickweed in bloom.
P.M. To Attica and eastwards. Quite unexpectedly