The last three days on the Elevators picture - It has become a prison at last, from which I seek in vain to escape. I thought today I had come to the end, but at late afternoon, the foreground suddenly reveals itself as out of harmony with the rest. It will require another day’s work. As I near the end, much as I long to be quit of it (albeit only with honor) it is not without sadness and regret – it is the end of a long-drawn out dream; and the whistle of a tug in the distant harbor brings a pang: - the season has advanced, true summer is upon us, the lush green meadows of May are but a memory, and my dream too, will soon be but a memory.
     Jim in at noon to look at the picture – he thinks it my best work – and said it gave him a queer feeling it impressed him so; also that if he owned November evening, Winter Bouquet & Pussy-Willows, he would willingly exchange all three for this one.
     Rev. Neeb & Mr. Berlin out at late afternoon.
                                                                         July 2, 1938 (Saturday)
     The last two weeks full of nondescript activities and confused impressions Lost without the Elevators, and full of doubt over it, mingled with the hope I had created something. Playing with the children quite a bit. The Wassel boys have conquered us completely by this time. Donny, the older of the two, at the pre-adolescent age of eleven, is still completely innocent and unspoiled. I think that boys at that age are in the golden period of boyhood.      They are no longer