September 11, 1944

June came straight from the garden with a muddy rear where the hoe had let her slip twice into the ditch. She looked adorable in a tan short sunsuit, a huge rolled Mexican hat with cord under the chin, borrowed tan gloves to avoid blisters, and black rubber boots, with cheeks flaming under dark hair curling with dampness of perspiration. She was tired and awfully empty. She says she cannot work nearly so well after a lunch of nothing but hominy.