Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

car—“It’s a lovely view here,”—“Yes, isn’t it?”—and they went on.; After I had finished I spread a blanket and lay down looking up onto the sky. The day was coming to an end, and like me seemed tired. Down the road a brown thrasher was presenting his infinite variety of songs; the bobolinks were still suspicious of me, but another one further off spread his cascade of song over the meadows, and the bluebird still sang at times…… a slight rustle—a small dark brown snake was slowly stealing thru the grass toward me. I touched his back with my fingertip and he fairly leaped into the ditch to get away……. Again a rustle in the ditch—possibly a mole, but he eluded me.I ate my lunch, then rather emotionally exhausted, I drove back to the iris vale, picked some forget-me-nots and some large rank-growing spikes of great flowers, then drove on home.Hank & M, there—with B & M.A.—the girls went up & got ice cream—we had scarcely finished when C same home with some more.Everyone rather liked my sketch—tho they found it rather startling.June 28—(Sat.)Up rather late—it is very warm & quiet, and humid again.Rather numb from my experience yesterday—but I wish I could prolong and expand such moments. How I long to break the confinement of my adulthood, and get back to the innocent wonder of childhood.—To come up the Painter road, barefoot, hot, tired, hungry & thirsty—and to feel the almost terrifying power of the Summer Solstice noon beating down on the white dusty road.Hank, who is continuing his flying lessons at the Gardenville Air-