Wednesday, June 12:
Up between three and four in the morning; birdsong and sunrise, a little deer runs past quite close to me, a cuckoo with three notes; happy mood. But R. is not pleased with my morning walk, so that I come to regret it.
The sun soon went in, and now it is raining. Fidi is unwell; a back tooth is coming in. R. sends off his article. He goes for a walk and discovers a ravine, the Wolfsschlucht, after having sat a long time for Scharff, the medal maker.