Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, July 4, 1915

A windy day -

P.M. To Stram’s Lots & South of Posts sketching –

Booming white windy day clouds, wind waves across bending hay, clawing blue green oats against yellowing wheat, stiff hot wind, harsh chirping call of meadowlarks – Windy July! Song of bluebird At sunset in Oatfield south of Post’s – Remote salmon thunderheads far to east of the blueshadowed Dutchman’s, - strong wind out of south  scattered, rainy sky, sun vanishes  when a colorless glow; silvery call of meadowlark –

Homeward – the wild night wind thru (sic) the trees – metallic blue sky –

Lightning to west & distant thunder rumbles each flash plants against the thunderish sky a vision of huge black windy trees -

The storm comes quickly – wild raindashing – cool wind – snapping-lights in sky –

Afterwards a calm rain-dripping –

When on June 14, 1915 as I saw my “vision” of the power & beauty of the idea I suddenly evolved that caused me to lie down tensely in the hay, I seem to only realize by now that it is to be the key of my whole life work, unless in due time, a grander thing may come to me – which “heaven” forbid, else I expire in overwhelming passion!

I often speculate on the variety of Gods the world contains – from the lowest form of intelligence (which creates idols out of earthly material) – to the next highest 43. which imagines a God in man’s likeness, but all-powerful, to the Gods of higher & more remote intelligences which take on the grotesque shapes of negation – truly I have lost myself in my work; the mild breeze of the question of the universe can no longer make an impression in water that is torn by the wilder winds of poetry & beauty & passion –

Charles E. Burchfield, July 4, 1915