Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, March 29, 1939

For a walk, taking my lunch (some for Spotty too) in my knapsack.  North across lots to railroad, which I follow to a point a mile or so east of William street, then eastwards thru the swamp barrens that extend for several miles here. It is a fine invigorating day – clear blue skies, with a wind cold enough to temper the warm rays of the sun. I walk along feeling a vigor that has not been mine for months – 

The swamp barrens – uneven land, mostly covered with dense shrubs; and sometimes small second growth woods. At one place I stopped to admire the rich red of a maple sapling, and suddenly I experience one of these rare moments when time seems to stop, and all seems at perfect peace and harmony between my Creator and myself. I had longed for scenes of the past, and I had longed for strange new scenes, but here – in this humble spot eternity could be [glimpsed]. I stood for some time, both blissfully happy, and humbly conscious of my unworthiness of such happiness.

The warm breath that came up from the earth smelled like hepaticas.

I eventually came to Borden road, which I crossed, and headed southeastward, towards a woods, seeking a place to eat lunch. A fallen log furnished the desired spot, and I soon devoured my sandwiches and fruit. It was none [too] warm, and I did not linger.

Resuming my walk, I came at length upon a peculiar earth-formation that was so regular and straight as to seem more man-made than natural – it was a strip of ground about ten or twelve feet wide, raised higher than the surrounding land, and [extending] indefinitely in an east-west direction.  Its firmness and regularity was welcome after the uneven soggy marshlands, and I strode along more rapidly.  I noted that it was used as a bridle-path, tho it hardly seems probably it was made expressly for that purpose.  It led to Transit Road, and on east.  So [saturated] had I become with the wildeness of the barrens, [that] even the familiar prosaic Transit Road had a far-away strange appearance.

I continued eastward. Great areas of dappled white clouds had over-spread the southern half of the sky.  Though they stopped shadow-casting sunlight, yet they were so brilliantly illuminated, that they cast a paler, false sunlight over the earth – the effect was strange and unearthly –

The raised strip extended as far as Aurora Road, thru more open country.  At this road, I started southward.  I hoped to find a telephone at William street so I could call Bertha who had suggested I walk as far as I wanted to go, and she would pick me up in the car.  I was beginning to feel the dullness of fatigue.  But there not only was no telephone at a cross-roads gas-station, but none in the neighborhood.

So I proceeded on south, towards Clinton street.  How different the afternoon sunlight seemed.  I was reminded of my boyhood’s Saturday rambles, of coming up the Painter road in mid-afternoon, dead-tired from a morning spent in the Bottoms.  The fact that I now felt much the same way walking along suddenly brought me closer in my heart to this countryside.

At John Mary’s store at Aurora & Clinton, I found a phone.  I started walking westward on Clinton.  Knowing now that Bertha would come soon, I did not feel so tired, and began again to enjoy intensely the day, & the country, since it would soon be at an end.  I threw back my head, and looked high into the western sky, feeling a pride & joy in my existence.

I met Bertha at the Blossom Road.

Home, and bath, and into bed to rest – my face burned delightfully against the pillow.

Charles E. Burchfield, March 29, 1939