Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

48.               September 27, 1934 – Thursday

     In the garden, collecting four-o’clock seeds (which has become like a mechanical habit, for I already have many more than I need) waiting for the Dr. and his party to arrive to look at pictures – The west dark and threatening, a strong moist wind out of the S.W. – The Catholic church bell commences to ring, and it calls up the memories of waiting for the bus to take me to Birge’s – my nostalgic reverie that followed is inexplicable – for at the time, I begrudged each morning going in there, and always longed for freedom from such obligations –

     The other day played Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony – like Barbellion after hearing a concert that thrilled him, I could have eaten “all the elephants of Hindustan and picked my teeth with the spine of Strassburg Cathedral” – I like that phrase!