Morning wonderfully clear and fresh. Cold wind. Beauty of windblown trees—white undersides. The blue in the air. A pair of blue birds.
The bobolinks. Even in describing their song, the wind mingles the notes with the blue haze and sunshine and gathers dandelion seeds, sorrel pollen and scent of wild cherry bloom.
Down in roadside hollow. Seclusion and charm. Odor of ferns, rotting wood and mossy water. An ideal streambed of solid rock. An old piece of tin becomes a thing of beauty with the ripples reflections running over it. And espiecially are ripple reflections beautiful as revealed through translucent jewelweed. Beauty of water dripping moss.
Charles E. Burchfield, June 2, 1914