April 7, 2015

Nick the dark-eyed mower man came yesterday. I didn’t see in the dark of the morning, but smelled the mown wild chives mingling with the hyacinths and the perfume of rain. I amuse him in some way I do  not fully comprehend.
   
Maud vomiting on the Turkish rugs when I came through the door after the work-out.  Some small thing one finds, nevertheless, almost unendurable.
   
Long talk with Will, who thinks he might be back in the buying vein again. Everyone knows better gossip than I do.