Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

A Dream –

A whole day of wonderful clouds, which I cannot remember. As the sun neared the horizon, the sky became comparatively clear & the sun boiled gold. The air was full of a thick heavy August Autumn haze which was colored yellow by the sunlight except at a distance where was a row of naked trees; which intercepted the sun’s rays so that the haze behind them was not golden, but a startling bluish white. I was with a company of people but they were a thousand miles away. As I walked along, enjoying the sight & taking feverish mental notes, I suddenly noticed a wonderful sight in the trees along the walk. On them were appearing fantastic shapes of white which I discovered to be the haze condensing on the bark in frost, for the air had suddenly become cold–