Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

The wind has brought more filmy mists & haze until the sky is barely visible - the sunlight is dimmed. Entering Hawthorne meadows. I sit down a bank of ground myrtle, which sends up a rich spicy aroma-frankincense to the wind. Under walnut tree. Notice peculiar slate colored larvae, with straggly white hair, on the ground & climbing the trunk. Up on the hill, is a cornpatch, which sparkles like dewy grass. Out of sky comes quivering cry of blue-bird. Remote is the rapid “wolt-i-year” of a cardinal.