Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

26.                May 29, 1934 –

     Working in yard all day, first weeding violet beds & then transplanting iris, some to along the house, and another bed along west side of studio. I took a special pleasure in the latter. Along the outer edge I planted day-flowers.

                   June 5, 1934 –

     The long drought and heat wave coming so early, makes strange contrasts. The fields have no rankness, there is no hay, and lawns are turning yellow, but most of the trees have yet that startling emerald quality that goes with early June – the air is stifling, dry, the sunlight brassy and glaring, suggestive of mid-August, but as I walk along, now comes the rank odor of honey locust, or the rich odor of lily-of-the-valley, and also the unidentifiable mixture of countless pollens, all seeming anachronistic.

     It seems wonderful to think of rain falling, to see cool cloudy skies, to be able to hear thunder – such things seem fabulous now. Perhaps it was some terrible pre-historic drought that gave birth to religion or prayer.