Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

the hot white sky.; On the hillside were growing some wild blackberry bushes, heavily loaded with fruit, some of which I ate. I was just considering picking some to take home, when I saw a farmer coming with a big pail under his arm, heading to the patch. I drove on.; At St. Mary’s where the road-operations were still on, I drove over the detour to the north & above the town, but was too tired to do any sketchings. I went to Johnsenberg, where I “hit” route 219. At this point, the adventure seemed ended, and I turned north with the feeling that I was definitely homeward bound.; Below Bradford, I stopped at a point where there is a vast view to the east over the hills. Here I observed blackberry bushes growing along the steep hillsides; I determined to pick some. It was not easy—the hillside covered with rocks which shrouded a none-too-secure footing; but I enjoyed it as it took one back to the berry-picking days of my boyhood. I have lost some of the “knack” for picking, nor none of the physical pleasure of the “feel” of the berries. The sweat was soon “running” off of me. I picked about six quarts. ; A few miles beyond here, I stopped at Kennedy springs – a mountain spring supervised by the state,-- the water was cold as ice, and delicious.; From Bradford on, there is little to note. I ate a lunch at Salamanca, and got to Springville, before I had to turn on my lights. I reached home about 9:30.