Charles Burchfield, Journals, March 16, 1919

It had rained all night & all day—I went out over the loose spongy earth—the rain increased in fury—a flock of blackbirds in a meadow were chattering with a melodious cheerfulness—I felt how sacredly wonderful the rain was, how it should open up our spirits & make them light; Noise [i.e., noisy] streams were hurrying everywhere, the earth was so full that the water came out of the ground like artesian wells—One was not surprised to hear songsparrows, but the meadow larks’s silvery whistle sounded as if newly created; and the bluebird’s color a totally new thing—

The Pinehollow had a sad grandeur about its solitude; the stream roaring in the misty depth of its hollow was felt; a peterbird sang once—after dusk, the fearful gloom of woods grabbed at the road; a bird call came from the woody hill, like the rapid tapping on tapping on a hollow skull—The resounding crash of the waterfall at Teegarden was left behind now.

Charles Burchfield, March 16, 1919