P.M.—To Cliffs.

  Frog or toad spawn in a pool in long worm-like or bowel-like strings, sometimes coiled up spirally.

  It is fine clear atmosphere, only the mountains blue. A slight seething but no haze. Shall we have much of this weather after this ? There is scarcely a flock of cloud in the sky. The heaven is now broad and open to the earth in these longest days. The world can never be more beautiful than now, for, combined with the tender fresh green, you have this remarkable clearness of the air . . . .

  At evening the water is quite white, reflecting the white evening sky, and oily smooth. I see the willows reflected in it, when I cannot see their tops in the twilight against the dark hillside . . .