Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

84. haps this was against the law, so was glad we could do it.

     I buried her back of the pavilion, surrounding the grave with stones, and a bouquet at the head. Many other things were buried with her, intangible memories of the past eight years. How we will miss her. - A gentle, lovable little dog, she yet had a saucy gayety about her that set her apart from all the dogs I have know.

P.M.  In studio getting ready the wheat field picture for work.[i]

                   July 14 -

     A dream -

     Back in Salem, Art + I - at the old home - Here everything was topsy-turvy - the present owners were enlarging and altering the house. The alley-way had been closed, the building extended out over it - the whole front fitted up as for a lunch-wagon service, and painted bright red + yellow -

     Next door, the people had put a large tank on the roof for bathing. Art, on discovering this, started throwing huge rocks into the tank, so it would splash on people sitting around. I came out to stop him - then looked down the street. It too was changed, and a gang of workmen were busy widening it - The road bed was damp and sandy, and had the feeling of wet sand in the alley below our house by Strawn's) It was lined on both sides with great maples - Westward, the street was closed off by a huge old Victorian mansion, of weather-stained yellow brick.

     Now my mother, and sister Frances, appeared on the porch of our house, and asked me to get some groceries for them, when I went to the store. Among other things they asked me to bring some "Tuna-fish toilet paper" - "Oh" I replied "I didn't know