After much indecision, I finally decided to go out painting—partially cloudy and a little rain at times…
Just as I was finishing, a young boy (about 12) came to see what I was doing. He thought I had a “beautiful” picture—His cheeks were so smooth and pink as a baby’s; he was shy, yet not ill at ease, a child of the soil and the outdoors, consequently as attractive as any other creature of nature such as a would bird, or animal. He watched me, fascinated, as I took my paraphernalia apart—the number of “things” I had to do my work impressed him—“It takes a one-man army to cart that stuff” —I told him I usually make two trips of it. He carried for me what I could not manage, then went on his way.
Charles Burchfield, September 25, 1954