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A night of sea sounds, tonight. All is in motion outside. How isolated the island earth [[strikethrough]] feels [[/strikethrough]] is on a night like tonight. And what an excellent thing a house is on a night like this.

June 21-22 - a tremendous rain. So much rain! A 24-hr. rain!

June 25 - to achieve the cold.

Sept. 16 '67. It was quite a day. The swell of the sea sounded all night long (as hurricane Chloe swept northward toward Newfoundland). I went to Little White Head where the peaks of crags loomed dark against the sea fury. Below, the islands of rocks held the land masses together in the sea surge. It was grey and white, and stark, [[strikethrough]] deep sealocks [[/strikethrough]]. Then to Squeaker Cove, for a look at surf. Then back to the village thru the tall woods. Saw Nick on the path. Blackberries were all gone by. Home, for a lunch of corn on the porch. Our 2 appletrees are bearing fruit, ripening. Buried compost in vegetable garden, took garbage to the sea, squashed aphids on rosebuds, planted a rock aster dug out from little White Head, photographed the amazing Valencia rose in its open form, then went out to Lobster Cove to see what the sea was doing. It was the most awesome surf I'd ever seen. Great swells broke over the Washerwoman, clouding over the sky for a hundred feet. A heavy fog bank rolled over the horizon & it was then surf & deep grey.