Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

sent its slanting rays against the  scorched factory buildings. From the second and third floors of the new office-building came the rattling hum of hammering on steel auto-parts - almost musical it was.

     Had time enough before supper to go out in back-yard a few moments. The sky was almost all clear now and here and there re­mained whispy whimsical snatches of clouds. A cool breeze was blowing. What a pretty thing is the wind as it blows thru trees and bushes and over weeds, flowers and grass. I remember this summer once I stood at the edge of a great field of beard-grass spell-bound. It was just before a thunderstorm and the wind that precedes such a phenomenon was tearing gayly over this grass transforming it into a crazy mass of waves.  A wonderful sight indeed.

     A robin was complaining about something. I thought at first it might be