Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

July 5 (cont.)after a few angry jerks, he gives up and drops rapidly—I thought he would surely fall into the water, but about an inch or so from the creek’s surface he stopped abruptly. A moment or to (sic) of swaying on the bridge, and then he started climbing back—he did it in sections, going rapidly for a foot or two, then pausing to rest. When he arrived at the bridge apartment, he was carrying a little white ball of web.On the return, on the warmer Hill Road, I stopped to look at some deep ravines I had noticed on the trip up. Very dark in here,—the trees so dense little grows on the floor of the woods—merely dead leaves, the light coming in thru small openings in the top, had a warm gold quality—my blurred shadow on the ground - - - - woodthrush.Home—B thinks the sketch better than the clover field of last week.July 6—(Sun.)In somewhat of a daze all day—unable to settle on anything—Evening B & I to Seneca to see “It happened on 5th Ave” an amusing whimsy.