Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, April 6, 1944

                                                                        Apr. 6 —
     Art & I to Gowanda.
     A brisk brilliant sunshiny day; a golden day for both of us. It was a constant delight to Art, and his continuous enthusiasm at each new ‘event’ was a tonic to me. We were in complete harmony.
     Parked the car by the high-tension wire station — Thru fields toward the canyon. A giant skeleton of a chestnut, with ten robins in its branches, all facing the sun. Like a rite of some sort; something legendary about it – Another huge chestnut remains – Art climbed up in it. The fallen tree like a dragon –
     Our first view of the canyon from my favorite point. I had forgotten how startlingly beautiful this spot was; it was like a revelation to me. Wintergreen & pigeon berries; trailing arbutus. Art amused himself rolling rocks down the cliff. He could not understand why he could not throw a stone to make it land in the stream below.
     Thru the woods along the canyon’s edge to the point where I painted “March Sunlight.” When I asked Art whether we should go down into the bottom, he answered by starting out at once. We had a hilarious time scrambling and sliding down.
     Skipping stones; then around the base of the cliff on a narrow ledge – a precarious venture, for one mis-step would mean a dunking. Safely at the flat sandbars. The high cliff’s over-towering above us, in full sunlight. Great masses of ice hanging. At times large chunks let go, falling with a crash, shattering, and rolling down to our feet in small pieces.
     Once a hawk carrying a snake, flew along the top of the cliff. The sky beyond was a deep blue; scraggly hemlocks crowning the top –
     Buttonball trees against the sunlit sky –
     Summer cottages at the juncture of the east & west Forks. A wild beautiful spot; so as to be agonyzing. [sic]
     Start up the steep hill — opposite the beautiful cataract falling amid masses of ice — I said that Yosemite Falls was only better in size — then I told Art I used to call it “Yoze-might” – which amused him so, he could hardly climb for laughing “Yoh’s might fall if you aren’t careful” he punned. By the time we attained the top we were exhausted.
     Still one ravine to cross. The school bus abandoned in the woods.* Finally to the road; walk towards the car, wondering if we would find it intact. Splashing water from mud-holes on each other, “Oh pardon me” as we drove our feet down.
     Drive to Zoar Valley at late afternoon. Decide to have our supper at the point where the road was washed out several years ago. The creek has already eaten its way to the new road and is undermining it. We built a fire in the lee of a little hill, as the wind is so cold and strong elsewhere. Bacon & wiener sandwiches; we are hungry and enjoy it. The creek near at hand with its groves of young painted saplings in the yellowing sunlight— Once three hawks sailing – never once flapping their wings.
     After supper a walk eastward — amuse ourselves getting “out of step” with each other then in – by skipping. We started first with 2 skips, then 4, & 8 etc. — Art ended it all by counting to 50 and at the end, we were out of step, when we should have been in.
     We stayed until the moon came up in the east.
     Home by the Hamburg road. Stop at a farm to get some maple syrup – The moon shining down on and thru the maple grove —

*We not only could not understand why it was left there, but how anyone got it there so far from a road & through trees set so close together –
--Charles E. Burchfield, April 6, 1944