Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

2.                 Sept. 1, 1933 –

It is still possible to sit down in a meadow, with flowers and grasses all around, and feel the surge of heat waves; to feel the new [winds?] and to know that the world is as young as ever.

               Sept. 2, 1933 –

The moon is in the full, and it has the feeling of August – a dark mystery, and of chalky light from the southeast – oppressive thoughts, and regrets pour in on me.

              Sept. 5, 1933 –

A soft delightful morning, with a strangely beautiful golden sunshine out of a misty sky. The golden quality of the light has the characteristic of sunlight on a [thaw?] day in late February. The liquid chatter of starlings comes from the thinning trees – the earth is mellow –

              Nov. 17, 1933 –

The other night I lay awake, tortured by a multitude of thoughts; outside the sky was blanketed with soft strangely luminous clouds, in which now and then appeared ragged holes thru which glowed the deep indigo sky – black star-studded caves that moved majestically toward the south. In one I saw two