Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

mixed up some brown sugar and water, ad placed it where he would find it.

        After dinner, Mother asked me if I wanted all "that stuff" I had in a delapidated box upstairs. I said yes if I had a decent box. She said there was a good one upstairs so I went up with a sort of eager anticipation, to change the ^“stuff,” for I enjoyed The ^“stuff” was collection composed mostly of odd varieties of lichens, with some shells and stones. Almost everyone I picked up reminded me of some place in some woods, or some day, for I could remember almost every place I had gotten each one, and it was fun to sit handling these dry objects, meaningless to others, but to me full of memories of woodland walks.

     This evening about sundown, we had a thunderstorm, a real thunderstorm,the first one we had had this spring. How it made me feel like Spring. As afternoon came around, grey and white clouds began to collect, and at times obscured the sun. The sun beat down glaringly, thru a dead sultry air, when he did shine. At work I felt actually miserable, it was so warm. We didn’t dare put up the windows_, for the wind blew in too hard, and so I suffered on_, always praying for quitting time. One thing happened that diverted me from my misery for awhile. This