Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

they are diminished somewhat in size they have lost none of their divine color and texture. The portulaea bed is still a source of wonder to me. From thee arose the vibrant humming of honey-bees, whose life task, it seems to me, must be one of the most pleasant imaginable. To human beings, the fruit of ones chosen work is honey. It is a pity that all of us cannot gather honey. And it is a still greater pity that some must gather the honey for others, for then it is lost to both the gatherers and the one for whom it is gathered, who loses the joy of the gathering.

I concluded my “stroll”in the grape arbor where I sampled the grapes which are just commencing to ripen. After tasting all the varieties, I am minded to compare them to the different castes of society. The white-grapes are the aristocracy; they look nice but the taste of them is somewhat disappointing, for it seems empty. Pink grapes are the middle class - a strong satisfying lasting taste, a strong healthy ruddy color. Then there is

END OF VOL. XII