Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, September 17, 1929

Sept. 17 – 1929 —

By train to Springville, thence walked to N. Boston thence hitch hike to Hamburg – thence by Street car home— I can think of no day for years that has been as perfect for me as was today; when I was so completely in accord with the world; so physically elated, that I was unconscious of using energy – not since I was a boy & every ordinary stick & stone, every fencepost shell, fish & tree was fully of interest – it seemed as tho this was the first walk I had [ever] taken – like the first created man coming into a new land.

It rained just before dawn – driving torrents – but by eight-thirty it commenced to clear, & by nine-thirty when I arrived at the L. & W station at the harbor there was not a cloud left in the sky – there was a light cold breeze blowing over the harbor – a couple freighters were being pulled out by tugs – I walked along the wharves full of joy – I felt that I loved these boats, the raw elevators – as tho I wanted to reach out and embrace them—

The train ride I spent in making notes for my painting “September” & looking at the landscape – Leaving the train & coming into Springville in the morning freshness, the town seemed full of glamor – I bought bananas at a grocery – the saleslady & other customers seemed unreal to me – The street that I took north was lined with huge elms & maples – soon I was in the open country – The rich odors of September, probably intensified by the heavy shower delighted me – it was a rich community of asters, goldenrod, rotting wood onion flowers – cows in pastures added interest to the odor – I presently came to a little grove by the side of the wood & decided to walk thru it.

Entering it was like coming a newly made woods, on the first day – I stood still hardly daring to breathe – the thinning trees let sunshine thru in freckled patches – the ground was lightly coated with fresh brown leaves – a dignified hush was over all things – a lane had been cut thru it, which I followed thru to a side road whence I came to my main road again—

Some distance ahead I saw where a dirt road veered off from the main road & went up over a hill & I determined to take it – before I came to it, I chance to look back toward Springville, & saw higher hills that I had not been able to see in the town, rising to the south like phantoms – as I walked along I kept looking at a hill that faced the south & was covered with scattered groves, & the queer-shaped bushes that cows make by eating the lower branches – I kept watching it with regret – I should climb that hill I thought – but I pushed on up the hill-road – knocking wild apples – their sharp flavor a delight – The road attains the first plateau – a few clouds have appear in fleets along the southern horizon – a pasture woods stings my curiosity—I enter it – an old cow-shed delights me as much as when I was a boy – I found what seemed like a bird nest inside under the leaves – as I touched it, a reddish brown mouse with a white belly ran out—

The woods had evidently been struck by a mean tornado this summer as uprooted trees were scattered about in the greatest confusion – crows were around – I sat on a fallen tree loathe to leave the spot—

Shortly beyond here my road ran into another “improved” road – It ran in a northwesterly direction & I thought by taking it I would miss Boston, my original destination & I debated whether to try to find the Boston road, but decided to continue up the hill – along the road here was a little bank covered with long dry grass, & plated with what I can only  call road-pride maples – such places seem to me to so inevitably belong to late Summer that I decided to eat my lunch here – on the other of the side of the road were countless goldenroad (sic) – to the south a pasture I could see the blue hills south of Springville—

Shortly after continuing on my way I came to a macadamized road that veered off to the northeast – a sign read “Boston – 6 min –“ & I decided after all to go to Boston – This road ran along the top of a wide rolling hill – to the east lay a wide valley & beyond it another wide rolling hill – back, & other hills – in the after noon sunlight, I went along, singing & whistling idiotic songs—

The barren hill with a single scraggly elm & a solitary black house silhouetted against the sky on its extreme top – a feeling of wide loneliness—

Came upon an old farm-house that was a delight – a fine colonial shape, in a terrible state of repair – in front of it a huge black walnut tree – I make a sketch of it – first one of the occupants & then another come up to see what I am doing – the second one tells me that the main part of the house was built over a hundred years ago, & the other part 75 years ago, as a cheese factory – that the black walnut was brought from Vermont by his grandfather & planted there a smaller tree nearby he said was first as old as he was -  it was planted the fall before he was born & came up in the following spring which amazed me, as the tree was only a sapling apparently, while he was quite old – 63 years as he told me.

A heavy shadow suddenly fell across the battered house, & I turned to see that a wonderful formation of huge clouds had spread over the western sky, & then followed my only regret of the day – for all day I had let impressions come in so fully & had sketched so much that now I was not emotionally or physically quite up to drawing these clouds – as they came up one behind the other over the hill, they seemed to strike me with great power – to the east, but up by the sun as they advanced over the wide flat hills – they presented a galaxy of shapes & colors so marvelous as to put despair into my heart – feeling as I did that I could never paint any clouds like those—

I walked along torn apart by regrets on one hand & feelings of awe & wonder & delight on the other presently a young farmer came along with a machine - & took me to Boston – but a short distance away

Here I learned I could get a bus to Buffalo in an hour, so I decided to continue walking towards Hamburg intending to take the bus when it came along.

I was a little tired by now, & enjoyed the late afternoon in a subdued more peaceful mood – the hills were gradually getting lower as I went toward the lake. it was not long until a road-worker came along and gave me a mile – left to a village called Patchin.  I had not left here long until a man in a big truck offered me a ride to Hamburg, which I accepted. Here I got the streetcar home. The day was not done for while on the car, I saw a beautiful effect of an orange cloud while all the others were dark & neutral that gleamed like a red eye—

Charles E. Burchfield, Vol. 37, September 17, 1929, pgs. 33 - 37