Charles E. Burchfield, c. 1965

Based on the memory of a visit to my grandmother’s home in the country. At late twilight flying squirrels, who spent the daylight hours in the attic of the house, would come out one by one, fly to the base of the pine tree, scramble to the top, and then glide to a woods nearby. We—my sister and I—would count them as they came." Charles E. Burchfield, c. 1965