the “tangy” air. Sun-melted snow running over the sidewalks glittered brilliantly, while the wake of the sun in the wet icy streets was too dazzling to look at. At the brow of the slope to the Harbor, a current of air, damp with the chill of the lake cooled my face, and stirred my blood. A brief look around D L & W station and then thru “Little Italy.” On my return, I amused myself looking into store windows. It was the kind of weather and season when window displays of the most prosaic objects are thrilling & romantic - asbestos products, cork materials, plumber’s and machinist supplies, card board etc - all full of glamour.
     More logically, a florist’s window stirred me, and I went in and bought yellow daffodils for Bertha.
Vorfrühling - what do we not owe to the Germans for that word - how they have, with a name, crystallized a season, that the ordinary calendar ignores!
                                                                                   February 27, 1938-
     I am at the point on the Steubenville picture where none of it seems of a high caliber and where it seems as if all of it could be done better somehow.
     A terrible lassitude has me in its grip today - to do the slightest thing seems almost beyond my physical powers.