me exactly. Thru woods, up and down little hills & ravines, I strode briskly. The woods were white with snow, and all north sides of slopes were covered.
     By the side of a little brook, I came upon a little group of trees that struck me as being an ideal spot for a family, if they lived here, to use for a picnic spot, or place of retirement and meditation. My imagination leaped forward too, to the time when the years had scattered the family, some dead & gone, and how pregnant with memories the spot would be to the one or two survivors. What morbid thoughts.
     From a hilltop, I looked awhile to the east, for sheer ecstasy. I heard but did not see a blue-bird, but in looking for it I saw the blue of a slate bank on a hillside; and I remembered then the blue clay I used to gather & play with as a boy. How it all became suddenly vivid - the raw gray days in March, the calls of blue birds, the dripping water from ice covered banks.
                                                                                    April 7, 1938-
     Word that the pictures from Carnegie were at the express office. This upsets my plans, as I cannot drive the thought of them out of my mind. The office is not open until 1:30. I spend the morning at the finicky little tasks that I can find so easily.
     PM. The pictures. The cracking of the “Lilacs” of Sexton’s is worse than I thought (from seeing it in the exhibit). This distresses & depresses me, for I think it one of my best things. In fact, as I look at it, I thought I was missing out by not doing more oils of that nature.
     And the “Summer Noon in Woods” the 1917 study of Mrs. Barnes was in terrible shape; covered with mildew and showing evidence of having been hung in too strong a