Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

36. rain-storm obscuring distant hills like a silver misty curtain – from some where [sic] on a hill, a wet roof caught the sunlight & shone brilliantly thru the mist. We were soon in the shower, it came down in torrents but after we left Gowanda and were going towards the canyon, it stopped suddenly, and we continued into dry country, no sign of rain.

I have not gone down the right-hand side of the Cattaraugus for several years, and the beauty of the hill that I used in “November Plowing” poured in on me anew – I was filled with emotion as I looked at it, and longed to embrace it – it was mine – mine, and all the hills of Pennsylvania seemed as trash compared to it. The mid-afternoon sun, pouring thru holes in a dramatic clouded sky, sent sharp shadows down the hill-side from the base of the group of trees near its top. All of us, Art, Bertha, and Sally set out to climb it. The children enjoyed it thoroughly using much of their energy I shouts of sheer delight. What a feeling of freedom & vastness on its top –

Go on to “Persia” and down a steep hill to the stream – a brief sojourn here, throwing stones in the water. A couple had a small sized dog that was delighted with the stream. He plunged