Out Route 5, through the dreary industrial barrens of Lackawanna. We did not feel really on our way until past Woodlawn.
A trip like this made “against time” has the elusive quality of a dream—most of it is forgotten and only snitches of impressions come back later—
Lunch at a roadside diner—Art expressed it best when we came out— “That was the stalest bun, and the worst hamburger & coffee I ever ate in my life”—
The white birch cemetery west of [Conneaut] never fails to arouse wonder at its beauty—
The bridge at Ashtabula brought to mind the ever-elusive wild sweet peas.
Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, June 7, 1947