Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

 the sky. We eat a summer of ham & eggs.One trip is made thru frog-pond at east. Only one frog we abandon our attempts. One trip is made down stream without success.The most beautiful thing of the evening are the fireflies. They arise on all sides in droves of millions. Once I paused while down the creek. I looked westward and gasped with the beauty. As if by some preconcieved plan they all flashed spontaneously. It was like some wonderful strain of music. They revealed the stars in the sky. Blackness of night accentuates