Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

Sunday August 24, l9l3

It was with difficulty that I got awoke this morning and then I only accomplished it with Mother’s assistance, who in the same breath that she told me to get up, said that she thought I was foolish. I did too,but when I thought of all the possibili­ties of a mushroom hunt I overcame this feeling and got up. The cold bath put me right and when I went outdoors a moment before breakfast I was not at all sorry over the lost sleep.

What a morning! In the night a heavy dew had fallen; trees were dripping wet and hanging heavily; morning glories drooped with a heavy coat of it; and the grass - most beautiful of all it was, when viewed by one facing the sun, the rays were caught by the dewdrops, magnified and colored and sent forth again, to dazzle the eye with their brilliancy. I thought of Browings splendid little stanza beginning “The year is at the Spring”