Wednesday was a beautiful, Indian Summer day, one on which the sun always seems to be in the south, from early morning to late afternoon – The mild sunlight, enveloping Bengert’s bleached corn-patch, and the yellowing poplars beyond, fills the studio with a mellow golden glow.
I finished my work in the studio, and spent the rest of the afternoon in the yard; I potted a few plants for Bertha, and got Arthur to put in his spring bulbs, that had been dug up last spring.
The pale afternoon sun disappeared early in a slowly rising bank of blue-gray mist; at the same time, a raw wind from the east sprang up.
Charles E. Burchfield, Vol. 44, October 23 - November 6, 1942