Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

a field of wheat stubbles that creakled sharply, for an orchard where I expected to find mushrooms. I was disappointed again and I may as well add that I found no more during my ramble.

     From here I went westward, coming to a wide valley thru which flowed a creek ridiculously small for such a big valley. I fol­lowed its banks southward for some distance. I went into ecsta­cies over the gorgeous ironweed that grew in great quantities along the streams edge. Combined with the soft filmy green of willows they are an inspiring sight.

            Presently I left the brook and, cutting up over the valley hill, I entered a woods,from whose delicious dark and coolness soon emerged into still another pasture that led down to the two mile cross-road. As I strode along here I began to feel a little the worse for my trip of yesterday and this morning. The sun was making his heat felt, which re-