Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

paper, sticks and other debris. Grass rippled spasmodically; bending trees frantically clawed the air, the flowers on hydrangea bush bobbed rythmically; and top-heavy sunflower stalks swayed majestically. Even in the house the curtains flapped at times - and it was an odd thing: each flapping seemed to have an air of finality about it as tho it was the last one.  And the sunshine was blown hither and thither over the earth, into new and unheard of places.

And when it came to the sunset, the dying wind made a final spurt and blew the suns rays thru the blue grey clouds.

     In anticipation of the visit from Frances’ and Louise’ Rochester friends, we had a sort of one legged house cleaning to-night, after which we assembled in the dining room and enjoyed ourselves laughing and talking.