Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

Nov. 22, 1920 –; I went up to Jim Joner’s tonight to get some rabbits he had shot today. I recall I formerly shrank from the thought of killing wild creatures, but tonight it did not bother me. Instead it awakened a train of pleasant memories, which of apparently no relative value relation to rabbit-hunting. I thought of southeast snowstorms near thanksgiving time, of men coming in at noon to steaming kitchens wearing fur caps, covered with mud & Spanish needles and oddly enough, of carpenters humming in the spring, and regretted that such commonplace happenings of small towns have ceased to thrill me as they did when I was a boy. And I thought of dry curly grass in early March’s false summer