Charles Burchfield, Jounals, November 19, 1963

A bright sunny day—

At midmorning, a rarely beautiful sight—a jet-plane, with white trail, speeding across the northern sky from east to west—(I wished Bertha to see it but I knew before she could get out, it would be gone) However when I came out of the studio a few moments later, the plane had turned in a wide arc and was proceeding eastward at a lower elevation—so I called Bertha on the intercom—

The plane itself was a like a little white dart against the deep blue of the sky, the ruffled exhaust double plume scarcely less brilliant—below the trees glowed orange yellow against the sky—

Charles Burchfield, November 19, 1963