Sunday, Sept 8, 1889 The touch of the autumn is visible. The leaves are fading and the pear trees are losing their foliage. Few birds are seen except the Phebe, the wood peckers and occasionally the yellow birds. The wrens that were so busy all summer rearing their two broods over the front porch are gone as well as the "chippies" that come to get the crumbs I scattered in front of the house. The ripening weeds, the autumnal flowers, the smoky air tell of the dead summer. The Autumn comes to me differently from the Autumns of earlier days. I do not feel the sweet suggestions which it once brought to me nor the desire to produce in pictures its unique sentiment, because my mind is full of material things. I think however later, if I go away to the woods it will all come back. Calvert dressed himself and came down to dinner and walked about the place but he went back to his room and I think feels he overdid the matter. A number of people have been up here this afternoon to look at the lots to be sold. Cantine and Miss Sheffield called and he told me of a number of people who have told him they were going to bid and he thought it not unlikely we would sell all of them. I am not so sanguine as that. It has been a pleasant day but very smoky even with a North wind and this afternoon has been warm.
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