It is raining - how truly divine is such an event in June - everything bespeaks the presence of God.
For a while, it is pleasant to just sit in the studio, with the window open, and listen to the falling rain. After a while, it seemed urgent to get closer to it, so I went out and sat down on the foot-mat on my door stoop. Here I was protected by the little porch, yet it seemed as if I were actually in the rain. I was amused to see how, here and there, grass blades were hit squarely by raindrops, flattened by the blow, and springing back quickly.
Slowly the beauty of the young cannas, seen thru the porch railing forced itself upon me, and without having planned it, I was soon at work on them, not ceasing until after five.
Evening, B & I to N. Davis Rd to see a new fence being put up on some millionaire’s estate, and then to see the huge elm on Baker Rd. The sense of the power and nobility of this tree is remarkable. Later east on Michael Rd with the intention of visiting the iris swamps on Blood Rd. We had not proceeded far, when Bertha exclaimed “Look at the iris!” A swampy field full of them. It was an Elysian evening - vague rainy skies with pale gray-blue clouds, with bright orange openings, a slight breeze, incredibly soft & mild, coming over the lush moist meadows from the south. To the east was a grove of half-grown elms, dark and mysterious. It seemed as if one ought never to do anything but eternally absorb the beauty of the world with all one’s mind & soul.
Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, June 17, 1937