Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, March 23, 1915

5:00 A.M. By Trolley to Brandywine Falls sketching

So long anticipating trip I want to record every event as all are colored – getting breakfast, the ride on streetcar as it is getting light with workbound men; – the sunrise – a streak of red runs along top of long blue cloud bank and the sun booms forth in the opening, turns the world red violet, then slips under overhanging mass of dapples – Even as its last echoes were still jarring the distant blue woods, I got off the car in the middle of a songsparrow’s outbursts – The walk up this road is one I cannot forget – songsparrows drenching the air; cold wind roaring in my ears, as I stride over the crusted ground; meadowlark’s swingy silvery notes; the fainter wistful quaver of bluebirds as if they uttered it with the soft flutter of their wings; the powerful cawing of crows and the sight of their massive flopping bodies over the blue hills; robins calling from barnyards; redwing’s liquid notes; a chewink at times.

At Falls – Sketching – Falls a down rush of roaring froth into the dark green spruce valley – splattering into silver on the rocks – white puffs of clouds appear in the dappled sky – with wonderful rapidity they increase and rush on as if borne by some swift upper-current; from startling contrasts with sun; followed by a solid mass of clouds –

Early afternoons – homeward. Bluebirds along road – they turn the hills I thought were vivid blue to cold grey – the “telegraph harps” resound in the November wind; and the bluebirds notes mingle — At times at the falling of a stray shaft of sunlight, a roof sparkles in the blue hills to the west–

Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, March 23, 1915