Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

the heat which is deadening. A thrasher welcomed me to Bentley’s and indeed their song was the principal one here. My quest of violets led me down into the hollow, where I was concerned with little else for the time being, tho I could not ignore the sound of worm-droppings striking the leaves, sounding as I said before, like a calm steady rainfall. All plants and bushes were speckled black and rendered unpleasing. Nor could I disregard the mosquitoes which annoyed me almost beyond endurance. I believe that man’s desire to kill has its source in these little pests. My heart was full of murder and it was with exquisite pleasure that I crushed one mosquito after another. While I am speaking of unpleasant things, I may add that this is the season for a certain specie of measuring worms which overrun beeches and kindred trees, hanging down from them in festoons. While they are harmless, one does not particularly fancy having them crawl over his head and neck