Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

in the silence that follows every storm, it was pleasant to see the bright afternoon sun shining forth from the scattering clouds on the whitened tree trunks, posts and houses, and to breathe deeply of the fresh cold air.

     After supper we all, excepting Joe, went to the show.  “The Man on the Box” which was good, and had both some very comical scenes and some dramatic scenes.  The play ended too abruptly for me.  We were wondering how many acts there were, and at the end of the second act, I told Fred they couldn’t finish it up in one act; but they did, too suddenly.

                   Sunday April 2, 1911.

     This morning, I worked industriously at my map, and then tiring of this I looked at the papers, and went out and enjoyed the weather.  Early in the morning it was a very clear, blue and white sunshiny scene, but as the morning wore away the blue sky was overcast with a white mist and a odd grey clouds that seemed to be fixed immovable in the air.

     Bill had asked Joe and I over for this afternoon, but as Joe preferred a funeral to cards, I asked Fred to go over.  So he dressed up – in his first long pants, but