For the first time this year, painting to the accompanying sound of an orchestra of cicardas. Alll the pleasant memories of summer resurfacing. High temperatures over fields of tall grass, their mauvey-pink heads of seeds swaying in the gentle eveing breeze. Bands yellowing wheat & white barley shimmering in the milky sunlight. The land giving off much humidity. Not dark till 9,30. Summer is fast approaching. In the night time much thunder. I wonder if the circardas were listening to the storm?