Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, Vol. 40, August 2, 1936

I walked up over the hill, and found myself in a clump of blackberry bushes, the surge of heat that came up from the ground, seemed good to me; a feeling came thru every part of my body that I was nearly recovered, that my blood was running hotly, and a new strength from deep within me.

Much of the woods is overgrown, but the path is still here. The part of the woods fronting the road is not the same; there is no openness, blackberries bushes growing in great profusion; many of the trees are gone; there is none of that dignity I used to feel here.

Under a great oak, at the first turning of the path beyond where the crooked beech stood. The tremulous leaves quivering in the heat-haze, the hot sun pouring down; all the weeks & months of futile blind worry seemed to fall away— this was all one needs to know of God.

Once I threw myself down in a little open space, flat on my back, and stretched out to the sun. Wave on wave of heat poured over me, and thru me. One could grow drunk on such a thing.

Charles E. Burchfield, August 2, 1936