Dear Diary — I am sitting on the bench on the front porch right next to the vine which is dark with leaves — it almost hides the view beyond. It is twilight and the sun has just set in a smooth bank of purple clouds. Nearby is Clure’s dogwood with its just-blossoming white flowers. Above are pink, white, and gray clouds in a soft sea of light blue — the west is deep orange, almost vermillion in one place, but it is mostly a lovely pink shade. And all around is the green, green world of Spring with the fragrance of blooming wisteria and lilacs drifting around from the back. Wherever you look there is beauty which you know you will never forget, even though it hurts because you know that soon it will be gone. You know also that the summer is coming; that the dear lilacs are blooming in the back garden; that life is good; and that you are not afraid. It is so lovely just to be alive and to be a part of this beautiful Springtime. Oh, how I wish I were an artist or a poet or even one capable of putting his feelings and observations on paper! There is no war here — only Beauty and Loveliness.