Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

near the horizon in my line of vision, I was totally unprepared for the magnificent clouds that were scattered over the sky—it is almost impossible to give any idea their infinite variations & grandeur. Startling effects with the high wooded hills—in the west a huge pillar of cumulus cloud that must have been four or five miles high—back of its head was a brilliant sunlit expanse like a halo—to the north deep blue black masses hugged the hilltop, and to the east and northeast a violent rain-storm was raging—; Headed toward Cuba—picked flowers on the way—some white meadow rose, and brilliant red oswego tea, and fringed loose-strife—A large patch of oswego tea—while I stand, looking at it, a hummingbird came seeking the nectar—She paid no attention to me, and sometimes came with a foot of my head. A combination of power and daintiness. (Dug up a few of the flowers for our garden)—; To Cuba—(where 408 meets 305)—a glance at the map showed that 305 went N.E. to Belfast where it met Route 19—I planned to take the latter to Canadea, and 243 from there to Arcade.; N.E. on 305—beautiful country—Park on a wide hillside—to eat lunch, afterwards, just sat and looked at the clouds. Long flat bars of cloud to north, and about it, glint the top showing a pale remote thunderhead—a feeling of God abroad in the land.It was dark before I got to Arcade (243 ended at 98 about 5 miles below Arcade) and the rest of the trip home was rather tiring.Everyone liked the sketch I had made.; ; ; ; ; July 17—(Thurs.)—Very hot & humid—exhausted—; ; ; ; ; July 18 (Friday)B & I to Dr.—