pasture. The water was not deep, but it still had the soft freshness of rain-water about it, and was delightful. What a wonderful “element” is water, one plunge into it, and years roll off of one’s back. After awhile I ran about in an adjoining pasture.
     Coming back, I paused in an open space to watch a huge monoplane go by. Still the last word in travel development, it seemed as natural as anything about me - trees, buttercups or grass. As it’s (sic) sound died away, there was a resulting sense of dead silence, then gradually I became conscious of a persistent humming of insects, that swelled louder & louder as the subconscious memory of the airplane’s motor receded. Tho I looked everywhere I could not see a single creature that would account for this throbbing sound. It grew more mysterious, and seemed to be the pulse of the full overflowing life of June.
                                                                      July 3, 1937 (Saturday)
     A.M. To Buffalo to do some shopping. At first I was annoyed at the incredible amount of traffic, which seemed to move like slow-moving lava; horns tooting, and pedestrians flying here & there - But something in the look of the sun shining on the garish buildings, and the loose steamy clouds mounting upward changed the whole