Yesterday at Charleton we had tea from bright blue cups under the pink light from the giant hollyhock. We were all a little drugged with the country: a little bucolic I thought. It was lovely enough - made me envious of its country peace: the trees all standing securely - why did my eye catch the trees? The look of things has a great power over me. Even now, I have to watch the rooks beating up against the wind, which is high. And still I say to myself instinctively 'What's the phrase for that?' But what a little I can get down with my pen of what is so vivid to my eye.