Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

amused ourselves watching some pigs. We left the road just beyond covered bridge and making our way thru a swampy woods we came to the creek’s bank where all but me made preparations to fish. Soon they were hard at it while I went on ahead.

Along the creek here wild-sunflowers abounded. They overran everything and seemed ever the point of even overcoming the trees themselves. A single flower is odd. The drooping petals give the center and appearance of jutting forcibly upward. Here and there was a stalk of rich purple ironweed. Seen thru a thin screen of trees the masses of sunflowers and ironweed were beautiful. Few insects visited them. Honey bees and blisterbeetle were most plentiful, once in a while there came a tiger or asterias swallow-tail butterfly.

I was almost opposite Albany when I sat down on a stump to wait for the others to catch up. I have read that no one man was