Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

There in the church the sights & sounds from the outdoors that leaked in only made the morning more vivid thru the way it “stung” my imagination, one window to the north was half open, thru which I could see (and hear) the wind – “shattered” mass of maple leaves – the ripples over it were cold, & the depths dark green – the whole outdoors became a vast area of dark masses of maple trees & black cavities – thunder commenced to boom from a distance & brought to the mind’s eye a black blue-black sky with the whitened tops of wind turned trees against it – the dashing of rain; and then just outside of a partly open window to the south, a leak in the spout sent down a noisy clatter of water – the sun suddenly came out & struck squarely on this window producing a sudden yellow glare in the church – the hurrying clouds turned this on & off in a rapid succession of flashes. ; Afternoon – by street-car to West Seneca – for a hike along the creek – the fields full of white daisies, flea-bane, hawkweed & buttercups were a delights (sic) – great epic skies came & went – a stiff cold wind – the episode of the man who made us retrace our steps – it spoiled the day because resentment & desire for revenge filled our hears; but coming across a patch of wintergreen & plans for making tea drive it away –; The high cliffs – sitting & watching the sky – the walk thru the sunlit woods – buying the cabbage roses – ; ; _______________; at noon on the way home from church we found our new “home” – a little apartment on the third floor of a house on Franklin St. ; ; Tuesday June 13, 1922 –; On the way to work I heard a scissors grinder who “sang” his messages of solicitations for works instead of the usual “yelling.” It was a brief quaint air, like a remembrance of some old song of sadness over lost happiness or regret for days gone by forever – it was a note of pure poetry —