it seems as though work in one of the elevators would have none of the grimness that I associate with modern industry. These came to my mind then a picture of a vast long meadow, lush with rich new green grass, flanked on both sides by long low factories (not more than three or four stories high) which were old and partially covered with ivy. The workmen in them could look out across their benches, thru open windows, over the green meadow.
Then I thought of the hummocks of May, bustling with new emerald grass, and how they would look to men as they trudged home, wearily in the evening. And it seemed as if such an impression as theirs, would be more vital than mine, for I no longer get tired in a factory.
                                                                        May 21, 1938 (Saturday)
     Shading in the garden in front of my studio most of the day. It was ideal weather for it, and it seemed exactly the thing I wanted to do. What a solace to a tortured mind or soul it is to dig in the earth in Spring! One is only vaguely conscious of other things – the calls of swallows & robins, the deep bass voice of the harbor fog-horn; the raucous clatter of a switch engine; the cries of children at play are heard only subconsciously. At times I eased my muscles by going in to the studio and looking at the big oil.
     At evening, then, when I had the garden all worked up and neatly raked, I felt a glow of satisfaction, of having accomplished something worth while. (sic)