Thursday, June 12th

ALL THESE DAYS the woods have been full of surprises as the spring flowers blossom, one by one. My favorite, the strong, geometrical white bunch berry with its five-pointed stars is out now, and of course the lady’s slippers—suddenly I see them, standing among the fallen leaves of autumn or on pine needles, so elegant I catch my breath.

These nights are full of the summer sounds, tree frogs peeping till late, over the slow pulse of the waves … I am woken up nearly every day about three A.M. by Bramble mewing at the screened window. So I have to get up and open the door onto the deck outside my room, always in fear and trembling, because lately she brings in tiny baby animals she has caught and carries like kittens in her mouth. There was the flying squirrel, and yesterday at six she came with a tiny perfect baby rabbit. It was unharmed.

What to do? I had slept badly and really was upset and bewildered, but I got up and found a box, set the soft dear creature in it (those perfect tiny ears!), put on rubber boots and a coat over my pajamas, and took the car. After driving a mile I put the rabbit out in a field. Will it be able to fend for itself?

Yesterday and the day before have been perfect June days, clear, cool, the greens still so alive. But until the iris comes out there is very little to pick in the garden. I stole a little honeysuckle from the edge of the road just to have something to make the porch more festive, as it was Nancy Woodson’s eighteenth birthday and they were all coming for lobster salad and champagne. I enjoyed getting everything ready … and thinking about Nancy and her brother Tommy. It is good to know she is going to be able to do what she really wants to do after just barely graduating from high school. She is not a student, as Tommy is, but she is an artist and she has been accepted at Monserrat. So suddenly everything that must have felt closed against her and impossible to manage opens up.

They were an hour later than expected (Anne had had an unexpected caller) and it was a marvelous hour for me. The chairs are out on the terrace and for about half an hour I lay on the chaise longue, looking out over the field to a calm blue sea, listening to the birds … a purple finch even came down to drink out of Tamas’ flat water dish on the terrace wall (he stands up to drink out of it; it was supposed to be for the birds, but this is the first time I have seen one come) … watching the tree swallows fly back and forth over the field (they are nesting in one of the birdhouses). Bramble came and curled up on the flagstone a few yards away. Tamas lay at my feet, and the whole atmosphere breathed peace. I basked.

But thin high clouds began to darken the sky just a little, and a small wind made it suddenly chilly. So I got up and did a lot of small jobs I have had in mind for ages. I sprayed Malathion on two Martha Washington geraniums I put out the other day because they had white fly. I potted some more of the tiny Achimenes bulbs I am experimenting with under lights, and then I did quite a bit of clipping on the terrace.