The second of silvery thick white-hazed November mornings - calm motionless air as before a silent winter storm.
Yesterday at mid-morning a walk with Duke throughPark.
This noon on a walk to Margaret Sharp’s, I walked in ecstasy I walked singing to myself - I walked with a wide-open heart & mind and imagination. Can this be November? A deep blue sky - and great big yellow clouds drenched with the thin sparkling sunlight - hopeless - beyond me. My imagination was a riot scene. Were these city streets I walked? No, no – the sunlight was in them! I saw no one - alone I was as I am always except when with acquaintances who demand attention. One street was lined - both sides of the sidewalk - with button-wood trees - my poets. Hardly a leaf was off the trees. Once as I was walking down Euclid, the sun, long behind a great watery cloud, boomed forth an instant and like a flash of fire the lawns on every hand burned emerald!
At 3:30 Bailey & Duke & I throughPark earnestly discussing God and the creation.
Charles E. Burchfield, Nov. 11, 1914