[Campton—Thursday, 7 June 1866]
June 7th Still raining like a day in April, the clouds dropping fatness. Began our before breakfast walks.
I feel badly to have lost a month out of this years record crowded with events and interest whereas here nothing for such a journal transpires without I call the trees and flowers people which I mean to do.
My early ferns have only half awakened and the wayside is blue with violets. The acacia is in tenderest leaf hardly unfolded and the lilacs deep-hued in their glory. The rain of 5 days is about clearing leaving June in perfection.
The Hermit thrush and robins are busy enough each in his and her own way.
“Lei lo vedere, e me l’ovrare appaga”
At sunset the glory of the earth was unfolded—alas! for speech.
