Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

Nov. 4—(Tues.).; A restless night—sometime after midnight the rain started—Once the firewhistles blew (ours, the Railroad’s & Ebenezer’s)—; A.M. Mart better. B & I to Dr’s & then to vote. A gray, damp chilly day. The cloud mass has spread over the whole sky, and is a vague smooth misty expanse, seemingly very low. Little rain. Dark November brooding.; M. still with us, as the paint smell is still bad at their apt.; ; ; ; ; Nov. 6. (Thurs.); Down to N.W. of Springville, painting.; (Hill Road South of Boston to Genesee Rd. to Transit line Rd, South to Concord Rd, on which west & left on Belscher Rd.).; Low-hanging skies and some drizzling rain.; The Belscher Rd. country is wild & heavily wooded. Before lunch a short walk in a woods. The tall sombre [sic] trees, deep-glowering hemlocks, a little rain-falling—the rail wet leaves on the floor of the woods, a feeling of a vast out-door room———the white violet, which I dug up for B———Smooth-barked hickory, a few of which I picked up. The exciting acrid odor of the hills.; After lunch, set up my sketching outfit & soon at work painting (a tall gloom-filled hemlock & surrounded trees),—How good it was to be painting again, after more than three months. I felt surrounded by the goodness and kindness of God. All afternoon a joy kept up his scolding—a fine ant—unusual sound—once a nuthatch.; Finish at late afternoon, when a break occurred in the clouds, and the whole woods was bathed in a rich warm yellow light.