Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, March 25, 1916

A sultry March day – The robins sang this morning – their calls are on all sides – I hear a song sparrow! Walk to Mullins – killdeer call from sky – I see one skimming the sun-flooded sky –

I wonder if I will even be able to paint Spring – At this season my mind wander in all directions – I cannot concentrate –

P.M – Through Post’s & to Trotter’s Swamp sketching – a wonderful afternoon – 

Dense blue haze – blue-bird, soft song over miry cornfield – song sparrows; a pair of chewinks – water running everywhere; ground sinks softly under the boots – turf on pasture like loose skin on cow’s neck – clouds are glued to the sky;

Bottoms flooded – a big feeling – to Trotter’s swamp – red-winged blackbirds in hundreds; their calls, all coming at once sound like the creak of a wagon on a bitterly cold day; if I listen closely, I detect many weird differences of notes. As I approach flooded swamp sinking deep in field; five geese fly up; a moment later & two splendid blue herons rise and flap ponderously northward; reflections of swamp growth startling – the glassy water mirrors the underbrush. Sun in water – Blackbirds fringe the outer edge of the trees –

Crows flapped through immense – valley air

In a few places, I heard the croaking of toads – Peterbirds & red birds rarely –

Coming home in the dusk, weird music ran through my head; in a dark field, birds fluttered from my feet at times.

Early in the afternoon flies buzzed in my ear and brought of visions of stagnant sultry August noons.

While sitting on a hill an odor came from the ground like hepaticas.

Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, March 25, 1916