Charles Burchfield, Journals, March 19, 1911

To-day has been much like yesterday. In the early morning heavy frost covered the ground, but the sky overhead was covered with pale grey clouds and a fog was settling down over everything. Bluejays were constantly sending their “Cleenk, Cleenk” thru the quiet air. Outside a songsparrow began to sing. I went to the window; there he was, perched on a windmill on the tool house, swelling his little speckled breast and throat with each burst of melody. As I looked out at the cheerless weather, I wondered what joy he could see in it, to sing so happily. But a songsparrow is a songsparrow and will ever delight man’s heart on cheerless March mornings. Long I watched him and listened to his song, that grew more sweet each time he sang it, and long after I turned away, he kept it up. Sometimes a Robin would cry “Peemp, Peemp” but did not sing; and English sparrows quarreled continually, chasing each other in every direction.

As the morning went on the skies began to clear off, the sun shone dimly from the dome of white misty clouds that melted into patches of pale blue; a breeze, warmer that before began to stir. By afternoon the sun by shining brighter. Towards evening, as I was writing, a sudden, sharp chatter of sparrows arose out-side; I rushed to the window; there they were again, as yesterday crowding over both little apple trees, and perched   the grape-vines, sitting motionless on the limbs and branches; keeping up a continual chirping and chattering. As I listened to them I thought that no matter how noisy and quarrelsome they were, they were still likeable little creatures - dirty hungry bunches of feathers! Mother broke up some bread, which I threw out on the ground and then came in, shutting the door.  For a moment not a one moved.  Then one fluttered down to the ground, and cautiously hopped up, craning his neck as much as possible, until he came to the bread; here he snatched a piece and flew down in the grape arbor. Then another one came and he too flew away; and soon all of them were fluttering back and forth.  Some stayed in the tree, but when a fellow-mate brought back a piece of bread, they would fly down and take it from him. Gradually each one got his fill and flew away.

 The clouds, yellow and grey were now moving slowly across the light blue sky; and the sun was sinking into the west, throwing out his golden light in every direction. Robins were singing and sparrows chattering; it is Spring once more.

Yesterday morning Merle called me up and invited Joe, Louise and me out as Hattie was going to be there. So after supper to-night we three went trooping out, singing and whistling all the way. When we arrived we scraped our feet on the porch and mad a lot of noise, then quietly standing back in the shadow. Finally Edna came to the door and looked out, whereupon we jumped out shouting.  As we went in we heard Hattie and Merle upstairs, giggling and laughing a lot over something.  In a few moments they appeared and oh --! but it was awful! The perfume the had each soaked each other in a cheap brand of Carnation and it was “fierce”; I really got a headache that almost increased to sickness before the evening was over. We all - the rest of us - made them sit apart from us.

For a long time we sat around and talked. Our show at Greene was a very interesting topic of conversation. They have changed plane and are going to give a minstrel show!  I think I’ll be a boy wonder at it! Then all but Hattie, Merle and I got up to the piano and sang “Blushing Moon.” (that poor moon!) Hattie and Merle came and sat down on either side of me and exhaled - perfume. I had a headache already. I pleaded and entreated them to go away but they stayed and talked until I suddenly suggested we go over and suffocate Joe. This we did and he nearly fainted, while they were torturing him I put a window down from the top and drank in the pure air, after which we all assembled at the piano and sang - new songs, old songs, “old gems”, love songs, mushy songs, soft songs, silly songs and grand opera until very late. We were just on the sweet strains of “In the Good Old Summer Time” when Fay and Mr. Delzell came in. Mr. Delzell didn’t say anything all the time we were singing but I imagine he had a “splendid time.” At any rate, when I left he assured Edna that he had a divine time! We left soon after - if we hadn’t I would have perished on the spot, for the perfume became worse. Out on the porch we cut up a lot, but I guess we didn’t rouse the neighborhood.

Charles E Burchfield, Sunday March 19, 1911