Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

Nov. 8 – 1927—

            Sitting in my room in the dusk surrounded by my paintings, dreaming about them thrilled because the solution of “Country Blacksmith Shop” has just come to me – how the others finished & half finished attain beauty & power because only dimly seen – the sounds from below of my family – the bird like plaintiveness of Sally asking for some favor – the rich voice of my wife talking to the children – now [illegible], & now full of cheerful endearments—

Nov. 11, 1927—

Feb. 1, 1928

Reading in a article (sic) by Brown where he mentions the village atheist’s grave being decked by wild flowers that do not grow on orthodox graves.
I would like my grave to be planted with hepaticas, and be on some low hillside facing south so that as the sun’s rays each March came out of the steaming south, the hepaticas on my grave would be the first to bloom.