Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, July 29, 1948

July 29 – (Thurs) –

To the same territory as on last Saturday sketching. Out Route 78, to some swamps (just before junction with 98). Stop to make studies for the Dragon-fly picture.

A picturesque swamp, on both sides of the road, with many dead bushes. Plenty of dragonflies, especially of the type I want to use, i.e., the ones with black and white spotted wings. Very hot here, the air hazy – after I had made enough studies, I set out to investigate some pink flowers on the other side of the pond. I took my high galoshes along, but the water was too deep to get to the nicest ones and I had to be content with some near shore – they proved to be species of Smartweed [or Knotweed], the reddish bronze-green leaves floating on the water like lily pads, + the rich pink bunched flowers pointing upward.

Park under an elm, near a deserted house (on Rt. 98, north of Arcade) to eat lunch. Pleasant here. After lunch, I found some huge trunk’s lilies by the side of the house and picked several for a bouquet for Bertha.

On thru Arcade + wandering over various roads searching for a subject. Eventually wound up at the woods of Saturday’s trip. I continued this road, took the right turn northward, and went for a mile or so, coming to a small Maple, where there was a wide place to park. Here I determined to stay.

The prospects of a subject did not seem very great. Pleasant, rolling fields, but little else. I studied the field hard, trying to see it as a subject, but could not. A short walk down to a crossroads, and here I found what I was looking for. – A nondescript scene, but having the quality of something ancient, a memory of my boyhood, dirt cross-roads under a still hot July sun. I worked until almost seven.

Physically tired, but mentally exhilarated, I took a short walk down the west road. The receding suns rays cast beautiful pale, blue-green shadows over the whitening hazy fields. Trees to the east had a yearning evening look - + all nature seemed so peaceful and beneficent that it could hardly be borne.   

Spread a blanket, + ate lunch, then lay flat on my back awhile. Then packed up + headed for home, taking the westerly road, which after a couple of miles of beautiful farmlands, ended at a north-south dirt road, which I followed to route 243. (at the county line). Route 243 to 98 – then to 39 + 16 + on home.

Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, July 29, 1948