JULY 1, 1936
HYDE PARK—Another lovely day, but I feel rather wicked rejoicing in it when everybody around is praying for rain. Johnnie and I had a good ride abour eight-thirty and the house seems very quiet since my husband and all the things which go with the office of the President of the United States have departed.
Mrs. Scheider and I did the household shopping in Poughkeepsie this morning, and then I went back to lunch with my mother-in-law and Mr. and Mrs. Harold Edgell. He has just returned from Japan and told us some interesting things about one of the great modern Japanese artists who is painting in the same way that the older artists did, and uses the same materials and prepares his pigments in the same manner. They are on their way to leave a son at West Point for four years preparation for the Army. Just as we were all sitting together, a lady from the Women's International League for Peace and Freedom came to ask my mother-in-law to make a presentation of some kind to the Queen of England in the interest of peace. I could not help smiling to myself at our strange incongruities,—preparation for peace and war both going on at the same time!
My old friend in the butcher shop in Poughkeepsie is visiting his son in California and they told me he would be gone until autumn. His co-workers showed me with pride a picture postcard of the great Redwood trees and announced that they too wanted to see the distant parts of this country some time. I can well imagine what it all means to my old friend for I know what an effect those trees had on me. You seemed to see the past stretching back and back beyond you, and your own unimportance was vividly impressed on you.
My grandchildren are coming over to have supper at the Cottage with me, which is always a spree and their Uncle John is going to bring them over and take them back which makes it a real party.