… It's a divinely beautiful day—so was yesterday. The sky is as blue as the sky can be. I shall go to the Luxembourg gardens this afternoon and count dahlia and baby heads. The Paris gardens are simply a glorious sight with flowers—masses of beloved Japonica, enough Japonica at last. I shall have a garden one day, and work in it, too. Plant, weed, tie up, throw over the wall. And the peony border really will be staggering. Oh, how I love flowers! I think of them with such longing. I go through them, one after another, remembering them from their first moments with love—oh, with rapture, as if they were babies! No, it's what other women feel for babies—perhaps. Oh, Earth! Lovely, unforgettable Earth. Yesterday, I saw the leaves falling, so gently, so page 255 softly, raining down from little slender trees, golden against the blue. Perhaps Autumn is loveliest. Lo! it is Autumn. What is the magic of that? It is magic to me.