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Erie, Pa.
Friday, Sept. 30, '38.
Worked hard all morning on the New Haven test data, so went out for a walk at noon to relax, and went down to the lake beyond the golf course. It always does me good to go down there and look at the sky and the water. Now, in autumn, it is more lovely than ever. The lake was changing color constantly as the gray, pearly clouds moved about shifting the light and the shadow - but usually the near water was pale blue with greenish brown streaks ever moving and intertwined with it right up to where the waves grated across the sand and stones of the narrow beach at the cliffs. Farther out, there was dark blue and over the long sand bars, pale green and gray streaked with sparkling white combers. And as it neared the horizon, it became paler almost melting into the pale blue of the sky. The wind puffled faintly in my ears, which heard too the soft rattling of the golden rod, rustle of leaves and the crickets singing. The trees are changing fast now and the colors growing brighter among the reluctant green, and although bright, they are at the same time so refined and rich. Nature knows how to do it right. Here and there a white, clean birch among the rest. And the red of [[?shumac]] changing and the rich reddish brown of the cones. I went back to the office feeling much refreshed in mind and body.

The only disturbing thing about the walk was the "Private Property - No Trespassing" signs around the golf course. I kept wondering if someone would challenge me - sort of Mr. Milquetoast - and I know just what I'd say - "Just a G.E. man on G.E. property out for a noon stroll - ridiculous - doing no harm - that's for petters - tell Carl Wendell if you like; he knows me, etc. etc."

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