Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

68. The wonderful feel of the soft rich loam – all my petty worries feel away to nothing – I feel like falling prostrate and embracing the Earth –

     Evening all of us to see a picture show – it does not set exactly right to me tho; and afterwards as I get in bed, I feel a sense of futility –

                        April 26, 1935 -

Evening –

     I leave the studio door open to let the sounds of a spring evening come in – thru the doorway there is a glimpse of the neighbor’s house, lit by the afterglow, a barren elm back of it, dusky against a rubbed out blue sky. The various noises of the village – a dog barks – another takes it up, and then another, until a clamor ensues, which suddenly dies down, – robins calling sharply to each other; - the voices of the people having a warm intimate sound; mostly you cannot distinguish words; then again come fragments – men’s voices – “How about it?” – “You’re Crazy” – “Oh yeah?” “Aint it so?” (sic) “Well the first time __” Someone has a fit of coughing; that over-emphasized coughing that is indulged in and exaggerated so that someone will