Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

much that I am completely sick of them it, and it seems to have less value probably than it really has.___; Yesterdays (sic) trip was in the hilly country south and east of East Aurora. Before trying to find a painting subject I wanted to look for the road on which, four years ago in August we had had a picture, and later had found some magnificent Turk’s cap lilies. A week or so ago, we had tried to find it without success. We all had a different idea as to where it was: mine was that it was beyond Strykersville, and left the cement road in open fields; Bertha’s was that we had entered on it from right in the village of Strykersville. We tried all our hunches. Today I determined to try a number of roads, until I got tired of it. I finally gave it up. On one road however, I came upon a farmer’s family who were picking red raspberries. I bought six quarts, I regretted it a little, afterwards, for they weighted a little on my conscience: I was afraid they might spoil before I got home.; I drove southeastward until I came to a high grassy bank by the road, where two or three Maples grew. Here I spread a blanket and ate my lunch. Afterwards I stretched flat on my back, and looked up thru the branches of the tree. The sense of well-being and content that came over me was so delightful I almost wept. To be alone after weeks of visiting etc, was incredibly sweet. As I stretched my limbs, I felt physically capable of accomplishing almost anything. Tho the day was warm, a lively breeze tempered the heat –