Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, September 12, 1942

A deliciously mild day, with a blue and white dappled sky - a delightful moist quality to the soft breeze - foretelling rain...All day on frames - enjoying the air and sunlight. But it was not until late afternoon, when I sat down under the willow tree, that the cloud of depression which has lowered over me for a couple of weeks suddenly lifted, and the world seemed too beautiful to endure.

Clouds were gathering in the west, at first long dapped masses, thru which the sun still managed to send its rays - but they increased rapidly, and soon the sun had gone, and the sky took on a grimmer note - Bengert's ash tree, standing trembling, was inky black within while the glossy outer leaf masses were eerily lit up with an iron-gray light from above - The clouds increased and took on a colder bluer tone, and at times, tentative spatters of rain fell, and ceased, and began again. A vibrant whirring from behind and above the shed announced the flight of blackbirds, probably assembling for the Autumnal flight south - The west was streaked with distant falling rain; I thought of the birds flying toward it and wondered how it would feel to them to fly into a shower suddenly - and I thought of their long flight south, and dreamed as I did as a boy, that it would be fun to be one of them, and set out on the long journey over the wide September fields and valleys, and how cozy it would be to be one of a great flock of one's comrades.

Eventually, the rain came down so hard that I was driven indoors.