Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

June 12 – (Wed.); To the “mint-meadows” below Springville. Spend an hour or so by the stream picking great quantities of mint. It is a hot humid day with masses of loose ragged clouds – dark & stormy to the north – ; The bark of a groundhog – and a similar high-keyed whistle of a strange bird, of the size and appearance of the mockingbird type.; Eat lunch sitting on the bank of the road. Afterwards I took my materials down to the stream to do a sketch of it. I paused to observe the predicament of two dragonflies which had in some manner fallen into the water and were making heroic struggles to get out. (They were on the far side, out of reach of my help) – from time to time they were attacked by small minnows – and eventually reached an iris blade which he climbed and there rested to await the drying of his wings. The other, tho [sic] only a few inches from shore, seemed to give up the struggle and slowly floated downstream.; What a marvelous thing a June stream is – flush with the recent rains – flowing smoothly along thru [sic] the rankly growing marsh grasses – how full of life – evidenced by the constant appearance of concentric rings where some creature came to the surface for air, or in pursuit of an insect. ; Hardly had I set up my easel, when a few drops of rain fell, and a dark storm loomed on the hill to the west. I packed my things and went back to the car, which