Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

I heard a Peter-bird. While idling here I caught sight of a nest of small yellow spiders with which I amused myself awhile, by poking thin with my pencil and watching them wriggle.

From here I crossed Dry Hollow (which was not, however, dry) and entered Seven Trees territory, where I sat down to sketch a picturesque chestnut, in front of an old apple orchard. Thunder-heads formed and ever appeared about to form a shower, but passed harmlessly on. Once I heard a Peter-bird call and some fancy prompted me to answer him. Repeatedly he called and I could detect that he was rapidly coming closer. Finally he appeared in a tree near me; his wings were fluttering and he seemed greatly excited. As I kept answering he at last flew into a tree directly over my head and there he sang, for perhaps a half-hour. Once a red-bird chimed in for a few minutes.

I was surprised at the sound of a cicada which repeated its cry several times. I always associate it with July and cannot remember of ever