September 13 – Thursday –
Very hot and sultry – dense yellow haze in the air - *
September is the month of yellow – I must do a picture in which yellow is not only the predominating color, but is the picture.
A.M. – To Drs. A. + G. –
Had to wait an hour at the latter’s – I “improved the time” by reading an article in the New Yorker on the havoc wrought on birds and animals by the poisonous insect sprays –
*[A very complicated and distressing nightmare – At the very end Bertha, to my great relief, appeared in it, and a moment later, she was waking me up (so I could get to the Drs’ in time) and oddly enough, wearing the same dressing gown she had in the dream – So exhausted from the dream it seemed about impossible to get up]
Bertha had set up ready a delicious roast chicken dinner-
P.M. – Took out the “Return of the Blue-Birds” – (hanging in my room) out of its frame and substituted the “Swamp-fire in March”
In studio – studying various pictures – then fascinated by the scene outside the north windows, I made a drawing of it – The studio seemed full of a rich golden yellow and it occurred to me it might make a painting. Too exhausted even to start it however – I cut paper for mounting but too tired to finish –
We had planned to go food shopping, but Bertha begged off on account of the heat, and I was more than willing –
After a nap, we went out to H.J.’s for a snack.
When we came out, the full moon was just rising. Late night, Jupiter was near the moon thus [Jupiter high to the left of the moon] tonight it was thus [higher and to the right of the moon] a radical change in 24 hours.
The mood seemed very large, and was a rich orange – orangey yellow, surrounded by a red purple halo –
About 9:30 a thunderstorm passed to the south of us, filling the southern sky with vivid flashes, and at times there was a muffled thunder – we received the very outskirts of the rain for a few moments.
I keep thinking of the golden light in the studio. It seemed a very special time when my studio was filled with magical peace and contentment. It’s hard to find words to express the happiness (evoked by the hour, day, and season) that filled me to overflowing –
Evening music – “Tribute to Kreisler” (Ruggiero Ricci)
It is too bad that these simple pieces by a gentle natured man like Kreisler, receive such hard, heavy-handed treatment as Ricci gives them – Kreisler did not play like that. His forte was not virtuosity; or at least not of such a mechanical perfection as Ricci, has.
Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, September 13, 1962