Charles Burchfield, Journals, July 15, 1914

The “wet season” continues.

The air is heavy and damp - the moisture pervades all places. The slightest sounds and noises are carried far. It seems on such mornings as tho the world has just come to life, for on the dry morning we hear not the sounds. The moist breeze brings to us the sound of carpenter’s hammers, tonneau-hammerings, press-droppings, wagon rattlings, gas-engine throbbings, train whistlings, bell clangings, men-shoutings, as clear as tho they were all taking place in our backyard. And under all these is a soothing dull roar, the compound of a myriad minor noises, too slight to be classified.

Smoke hangs low and sways gently here and there catching on trees, buildings & places and lingering, making for them a beautiful outline.

The robin’s throats, parched and silent thru the dusty choking days, have become lubricated and the robins sing as madly as tho it were spring and one has but to close his eyes to see a leafless March landscape with a bright sun & sky overhead.

A walk out to see flowers. Morning glories cause reverence. Beautiful combination of cerise and violet. Other flowers blooming well. Cerise of petunias in sharp contrast to green, glows like fire and vibrates.

A fine mist or drizzle falling as I got to work.  As it falls tossed in the wind like snow, it stipples the air and harmonizes all things by this method.

At midmorning the sun came forth full and strong for a few moments, which marks the beginning of the clear-up.

By noon, the clouds, in the morning showing as a loose mass of mist, are becoming more solid and present outlines to the eye. The air is warm and has a peculiar softness to it.

Charles E Burchfield,  July 15, 19l4