Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, August 12, 1914

There is a beauty about a rainy day that is hard to express. There is a sort of rest + peacefulness about it.  We seem nearer to the creator on such a day— the barriers have been let down.—

The moist air holds the smoke prisoner + the breeze carries it idly about, mingling it with its own steamy breath until we cannot tell which is which.

The damp coolth of the air is like no other thing in nature. Our thoughts + movements indeed are softened. On rainy days the man is thrown back on his own resources—as we find an absence of sunlight, bird + insect songs. 

All things swell—the earth trees plants wood + even iron.  Why should not the same thing be true of our minds? We must expand, like the leaves, if we would receive all the cleansing water in our souls.

Charles E. Burchfield, August 12, 1914