Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

blueish grey, widely edged with a liquid quivering white, the smoky ones being completely drenched with sunlight.(HT)I noted the slowness with which the shadows moved. At one time, the field around me was enveloped in shadow. After it had passed, it was some time before Cigar Mountain but a half-mile distant, became blue-violet as it passed and remained so for a time.(HT)This is the charm of a windy day - this ceaseless coming & passing of shadows, a if the wind was tearing the shade from under trees and driving it in patches over the land,