Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

Monday Sept. 15, 1913

     Chatter of sparrows, heard just as the first light of dawn was coming, sounds like a large stream of falling water striking a pavement.

     Nature, having given us a sip of her perfect weather, is now brewing for us a draught that will not perhaps be so pleasing but without which the former would not be so pleasing.  Yesterdays cold wind from the east has become chilly and laden with moisture. Early in the morning whisps of clouds commenced to come, and all day they gathered, later becoming more dappled, and at sunset they disappeared. Sunset was colorless.

Today’s charm lies in to-night’s moon. Moon to begin with was in the full. It was very bright and white. Closely clasping it was a small ring of pale yellow, a little further away was a slightly larger ring, which, tho very pale, rivalled a rainbow in colors, of which there were many delicate elusive tints. Then far out, embracing a large