Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

lost most of its charm in the month of pretty songsters, while in March, it is one of the most welcoming sounds. (HT)It was nearing noon and the heat was at its height. The atmosphere close to the ground was hot and very moist. Trees were whitish blue-green in the hot mists. The sky was whitish blue dappled in places with white clouds. Crossing the fence I headed for Mystery Hollow, where I judged I would find refuge from the heat. The meadow here was spotted with ragged robin, caps-paw and buttercups while the bordering swamps were white with unfamiliar prolific white flowering plant. The ragged robin abounded with small spotted frittilaries.(HT)As I approached the Hollow, I was surprised to hear the “mi -re” song which puzzled me one cold day in February a couple years ago. I call it the “mi-re” song because represented on the musical scale, it would be represented by those