Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

[inscription reads] " inger’s Grove, I return. I wonder if the wind was created by the sunshine - it came so surely from the direction of the sun. The telegraph poles were atune, how else on such a morning? Every weed no matter how small, was surrounded by a patch of glittering frost-plinths, scattered from it by the wind. / I am glad that I love such things. / At afternoon the sun becomes an obscure glow and disappears in mist. / The remainder of the day spent in the house on account "