Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

July 8 (cont.).; Set up my paraphernalia and soon at work. It was necessary to practically bathe myself in citronella to ward off the mosquitoes.—some work before noon, time off for a hasty “bite” & then at work again. A fine drizzle but protected by heavy foliage. However, it soon developed into a heavy rain and I was forced to put up the umbrella which all but obscured my paper. However, I kept it all afternoon. Woodthrush at times—the enclosed woods seemed to make his song especially powerful and beautiful—the soft roar of rain on the tree tops—in spite of the dark rainy sky overhead, the light coming in the holes at the top of the woods had that same old gold quality, almost simulating sunshine.; At times the rain ceased, and it would be very still—and then afar off I could hear the wind advancing scattering rain from the foliage as it went.—; When I could paint no more,—I put all my stuff in the car, then dug up an orchid I had discovered.; Eastward on the Warner Hill Rd, to Weed Hill Rd, to its junction with Hunter’s Creek Rd,—where I parked facing west, with the view down into the valley. –; Eat my lunch. It had stopped raining—heavy low hanging layer clouds from the N.E.—mass of fog-like mist hovering over