Charles E. Burchfield, , October 15, 1964

Bertha and I to the Big Woods, by way of Zoar Valley –
A perfect day, almost a cloudless sky – The autumnal color at its height – After a season of so much confusion and frustration, we were like two children on a Saturday ramble—exclaiming and pointing etc.
We ate our lunch in our accustomed place by the big pine – where we can sit on a flat bank overlooking the road and the hills beyond. The sun shone warmly; the air mostly still, but at times a gentle breeze from the S.W. — Off to the N.E. in the woods, a blue-jay uttered his metallic autumnal cries of alarm, one of the most exciting sounds of autumn – I associate it with the acrid odor of wild cucumber pods, with their delicate pink & yellow exteriors, contrasting with the brilliant orange seeds inside, visible when the pod cracks open. So long, long ago - - .
After lunch, while I made a drawing of the pine, Bertha took a little stroll in the woods, but returned empty-handed; she had hoped to find some lichens – she said she found so many violet plants —
I then took a short walk in the woods sometimes sitting on a stump and marvelling at the brilliant trees against the deep blue sky — I noted with wonder how the orange yellow of the leaves and the blue seemed to struggle against each other for space to exist in; weaving in and out of each other as if boiling or writhing — A camera would not shoot this, however faithfully it might copy the colors — it is only the eye seeing it, and being on the spot that makes it apparent — So memory or past experience is not enough —
Leaf shadows on the strangely cold, white of sunlit beech-trunks – I made some studies—
A tall beech with its orange & tan leaves against the sky –
So many trees everywhere had been frozen in September. Far from detracting from their beauty, the frozen leaves only enhanced it, with their delicate pastel colors contrasting with the deeper tones below —
A strange beauty attained by locust trees, a faded grey green, the leaves, shriveled, forming minute rhythms
For tea, we stopped on the Trevett road, where there were no trees, and we enjoyed the wide open-ness of the landscape.

Charles Burchfield, October 15, 1964