Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

Saturday Aug. 30, l9l3

Today was a repetition, on a smaller scale, of yesterday. There was not so much wind, and there were more clouds. The sun­set was of vigorous colors - dark blue-black clouds and reddish orange sky. There is a brisk coolness and clearness in the air, already suggestive of frosty October nights.

     There is already a faint something in the air - that gives an air of sublety of all commonplace sounds and sights. Autumn is melancholy in a way, but it is full of romance. From the realism of summer we come to the romance of Fall. Life seems more worth the living.

     I got a letter from Louise Orcutt today. And - well I believe I would like to meet her some time.