Sept: 20 – Monday –
Out painting at the Zimmerman Road.
(on my way stopped to leave an order for frame material at the lumber mill, and also Tommy’s presents – he was in a delusion of excitement).
A wonderfully exciting day – a strong west wind, deep blue sky, with a few scudding wind-shaped clouds.
(On my arrival the parked car – a voice from the woods “Hey!” – I: “Yes what is it?” - Voice: “Come on over this way” – Why should I ? (to myself) – Then I realized he was calling a companion – for some moments silence then I happened to look at the edge of the woods and saw with a start, a man half-concealed by the bushes, looking intently at me. When our eyes met, he grinned and came forth, holding a basket with a few mushrooms in the bottom. “Not very plant [illegible] today” he observed. I: “I always prefer the field mushrooms” – He “The season for those is just almost over”
Sketching
Zimmerman Road held to its old charm for me today – in spite of the dense little thicket of as trees that had grown up to the windward of the grove of larger ash trees, obscuring a distant view – And fortunately too, no building has been started yet on the lots further north. I reconnoitered before lunch for a subject. I was intending to use an abstract motif as a theme, which occurred to me several weeks ago when I was making studies of queen-anne’s [sic] lace. A beautiful hemlock with a growth of goldenrod and asters at its best seemed ideal for the purpose, and I set up my easel. Then had my lunch, sitting by the roadside facing the wind. Thoroughly delightful – I could not get over my good fortune, to be alive, eating chicken sandwiches, on such a day, and in my favorite summer haunt!
A glorious afternoon, in spite of a bad start with the easel, which due to the strong wind, gave way at several points. I managed to make it secure, and from then on enjoyed myself. The bright sunlight, the cool bracing wind in my face, and the rich blue sky with its dazzling white ragged clouds all filled me with a wonderful sense of well-being, at times to the point of intoxication – I longed to run and leap, as in my youthful days, but had to be content to do so in my imagination,
The only insect songs I heard were those of field crickets which seemed to come from all directions.
Once I heard the approach of a jet-plane from the north – altho I quickly scanned the sky overhead, I could see nothing – What a feeling of deep mystery it invoked, that it was up there too far to be seen, even on such a clear day – I loved the sense of some mystical heavenly object it gave me.
By late afternoon I was thoroughly tired. I dragged my sketching gear to the car, then brewed a cup of tea, with hot-water that my wife had so sensibly and thoughtfully provided in a thermos bottle –
Feeling refreshed I set out to visit the woods to the west beyond the marshy part – Asters in the path of the lowering sun were surrounded by a halo of golden light, and made translucent except for the thick centers, which appeared as black dots in the swimming color.
Just before I entered the woods (following a wagon track) I passed thru an area that was in shadow due to an arm of the woods that partially enclosed the area, cutting off the sun. The effect was startlingly beautiful, almost religious in its feeling; the air was noticeably cooler.
The interior of the woods was enshrouded in a dark twilight gloom – Altho the sun sparkled in opening here & there it had no effect inside the woods. The spider-web like old gold haze in hemlock boughs, looking toward the sun; glint on the needles, always exciting to me.
As I was leaving I discovered a couple Indian Cucumber berries (dark indigo in color) which I picked to take home to Bertha.
It was pleasant to come out into the sunlit meadows again. By this time I was completely tired out, and uneven ground surface, due to humps of marsh grass roots, was particularly trying.
I moved the car up to the northern end of the road to eat my lunch. It was too chilly (sweated as I was) to eat outside. I scarcely was able to enjoy it because I was so tired. I watched the sun go down then headed for home.
I took a roundabout route, via McKinley Pkwy – so as to listen to the Katydids in the ravine at the roads junction with the Armor road. Only a few were singing, and it did not have the sense of mystery as it does on a warm August night.
Bertha liked the sketch very much, but I was too worn out to judge it.
A very heart-warming letter from the Braasches – one from Leona Prasse from Holland – and one from Ruth Fisher taking me to task for using my art to advertise Johnny Walker whiskey, altho she pretended to think they used one of my pictures without my consent –
Charles E. Burchfield, September 20, 1954