scene for me, and I found myself glorying in the noise & confusion - strife and struggle, I thought that is what an artist should feel, if he is to produce vital work. From then on I enjoyed myself.
                                                                          July 4, 1937-
     The power of full-blooded summer is here. In spite of the torrential rains, foliage has been already bronzed by the heat of the sun; the fresh virgin-like quality of June has all but disappeared.
     Today, after the heavy rain of the other night, the sunlight pours down from a cloudless sky - the ground is wet and I can imagine that the hot moisture drawn out of it by the sun, cooks the vegetation as it arizes - filling the air with a rank odor, almost sickening in its intensity. Yet there is something so vital about it, signifying as it does full powerful health and growth, that the word sickening does not seem to apply, having as it has, a suggestion of the unpleasant about it. Heady perhaps would be more to the point.