June 30—a week of unusual heat—Today too hot to stir about—go for a walk in the evening up in the fields—the sun just about to touch the horizon—it glows, softly blurred by the heat haze—a hot warm breeze stirs lazily over the wilting fields—the meadows in appearance still belong to June, but they are covered with a dense stifling brown haze. Later at night as I lay in bed—the full moon behind the maple tree outside had a peculiar sultry glow about it such as I never saw before—
Charles Burchfield, June 30, 1931