. . . . .
I am having a reasonable amount of work and rather more than a
reasonable amount of worry. But, after all, life is lovely here. The
country is beautiful, and I do not think that any two people ever got
more enjoyment out of the White House than Mother and I. We love
the house itself, without and within, for its associations, for
its stillness and its simplicity. We love the garden. And we like
Washington. We almost always take our breakfast on the south portico
now, Mother looking very pretty and dainty in her summer dresses. Then
we stroll about the garden for fifteen or twenty minutes, looking at
the flowers and the fountain and admiring the trees. Then I work until
between four and five, usually having some official people to lunch--now
a couple of Senators, now a couple of Ambassadors, now a literary
man, now a capitalist or a labor leader, or a scientist, or a big-game
hunter. If Mother wants to ride, we then spend a couple of hours on
horseback. We had a lovely ride up on the Virginia shore since I came
back, and yesterday went up Rock Creek and swung back home by the roads
where the locust trees were most numerous--for they are now white with
blossoms. It is the last great burst of bloom which we shall see this
year except the laurels. But there are plenty of flowers in bloom or
just coming out, the honeysuckle most conspicuously. The south portico
is fragrant with that now. The jasmine will be out later. If we don't
ride, I walk or play tennis. But I am afraid Ted has gotten out of his
father's class in tennis!