Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

a lane, a woman, with a harsh strident voice, ordered us off of the farm. This is the worst kind of narrowness. One would think that the farmer, by his long association with the outdoors & the soil would attain a breadth of mind to be equaled by no other man’s. But such is not the case. He does not see the poetry of nature; a rain is either good or bad for his crops as is the sunshine & he observes them accordingly, as is natural of course.(HT)We saw mushrooms here two & three days old, so that if they had cared for them themselves, they would have