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144

Sunday, June 15th, 1930
[[strikethrough]] Wednesday, May 23, 1928 [[/strikethrough]]

Yesterday mother and Mr. [[?]] and I drove up to Binkards.  The only reason I didn't want to come was [[strikethrough]] bec [[/strikethrough]] on account of Bob.  He has shown me he does like me sincerely and almost made me believe both that, and that I've helped him.  I've enjoyed the visits to the hospital, but two days isn't long, — and it has been worth it.  The ride up was rather fine.  Mr. [[?Aumpoon]] talked a great deal, but rather amusingly.  The farm is perfect.  There is an atmosphere of simplicity, honesty, and realness.  They are all sincere.  Bob B. is alive, really alive.  Sophia is so serene, she seems almost [[strikethrough]] like [[/strikethrough]] a daughter of the mountains and sky.  Roger is nice — works hard and intelligently.  Hamilton, Bob's youngest boy, is very mature for his age, and a darn good kid.  Alfred has improved on acquaintance.  He has a grand sense of humor — brains — and is marvelous looking.  Yesterday I worked in the fields, went "wading", ping-pong.  A walk, a ride, speaking to Bob J. on the phone.  It is so easy here.  No pretentious — nor artificiality — and such grand people.

[[strikethrough]] 15 days
9 days
6
30 days [[/strikethrough]]

(See pages 81 and 81 for poetry written here)


145
15

Tuesday, June 17th 1930  
[[strikethrough]] Thursday, May 24, 1928[[/strikethrough]]

When I finished writing here Sunday I went for a long walk.  The long brown dirt road, marked with horse-she imprints and automobile tires.  The blue sky.  The brightest of suns.  The stone wall.  The softness of the hills.  The views of carefully planned fields, and natural mountains.  The deserted houses in the old Shaker village.  The red mill.  The spring with wonderful water.  The [[?moth]] on its [[strikethrough]] bro [[/strikethrough]] back.  The baby bird.  The feeling of anticipation as [[strikethrough]] we [[/strikethrough]] I saw an ascent in the road.  The [[?tiniothy]] grass.  The freedom of the "open road".  The straightest and tallest and whitest of all silver birch trees.  The white clouds  Lunch at the farm.  Mr. Ampton, being polite, "Anyone who refuses this cheese-cake must have had some before."  Alfred.  Tea.  Good-bye to Alfred.  Supper.  The ride with [[?Kogar]].  The myriad of stars in a really black sky.  Getting stuck in the ditchlike plane.  Roger's ingeniousness.  Coming home to Sophia, Mother, and Mr. Ampson sitting around the table, the oil-lamp lighting their worried faces.  Stories about dead bodies.  Bad.  Monday morning — swimming, water-cress.  [[strikethrough]] house [[/strikethrough]] tea in [[?America]]-house ....  It was a weekend in which every single movement was perfect.

I can't decide what I think about Mr. Ampson.  He is such a funny mixture of things.  I dislike his attitude of treating everyone like a child.  He is "helpless" and timid and rather alone.... and yet he is sure of himself in his own way.  I wonder what he thinks of mother, and what he thinks about him.  
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