Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

June 12 – 1926 (cont.)

feel I ought to wait for Urban to eat – Finally go in & eat alone – the girls who retired me – after supper – twilight on the lake – the beauty of solemnity & mystery of the lake void enthralls for a time, then I become restless – wander around, get chilly & think of Urban who has the keys to the stateroom – I frantically recline on a deck-chair away from the wind & watch the lake – Urban comes along & I deliberately tell him I would rather stay where I was – Their constant running around after more whiskey disgusted me.
The bright turns foggy – the passing ships – first one clearly discernible but gray & gaunt – wind – the next only visible by the draughts & the constant looming of the fog horns – on & on & on goes the ship in the gray northeast wind. In a time then was an opening in the sky to the N. W. but later the sky was closed down – finally I heard the fog-horn from Buffalo – what a relief – then the ship slows down & stops – agony – here all might? – then starts up again – Finally the lighthouse in sight – the power of that horn – coming in the harbor – the signal for the tugs The eerie feeling – the vague lights of the city throug (sic) the buildings, elevators in into fantastic silhouettes – The big freighter going out – the men playing with the whistles – shore at last – I get Urban to leave me off at Seneca (determined to get to Gardenville if I had to walk--)
At city line – missed an by 15 minutes – start to walk – dreamy & curst the loss of the afternoon walking along filled with regrets over all the past misdeeds & mistakes of my life – all the mean, cruel things I ever did come up to haunt me – filled with regret over the misspent afternoon – tired & hungry – all at once off to the damp meadows comes & the wonderful scent moist odor of clover & fresh grass – it was like a blessing,