Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

Sun June 26 – 1927

P.M. to Hamburg by trolley & walk over Chestnut Ridge & thence to Orchard Park—
Missing the Hamburg Car at City Line I started walking – a brilliant day after the heavy rainstorms of the day before – great dark gray clouds with brilliant blinding white tops Fields rank with flowers – white daisies, buttercups Purple-pink clover, deep orange hawkweed; the air was heavy with clover scent – the white daisies gave the fields a chalky look, as if whitewash spattered over the green—
The Polish Picnic – musicians playing some old-world dance music on accordians (?) – I stopped to listen – the people crowded under low maples talking & laughing made it gay – I had to admit to myself that jazz in spite of its ingenious novelties & clever imprudence, does not fit the outdoor picnic like this music did—
Down the N. Boston road to creek, where I turn off to strike the old railroad bed – along this creek I found wild iris still in bloom which took me back to the first time Bertha & I came thru here, 10 days after we were married. It was May 30, & the iris were in their prime.
I didn’t have any iris here, Someday I would find mine in the much warmth down that flanks the railroad bed on both sides.

July 24 – 1927—

I long for old half-forgotten moods – For endless summer days spent in the Ohio hills – for the July days of 1918 spent in the hill country north of Salem – for the old burning optimum of the joy of God’s newly created earth – (to feel confidently at home when alone in the hills) – for the old homely interest in common