Charles Burchfield, Journals, December 1, 1930

The rain turned to snow in the night—the refreshing mist of sifted snow dampened my face at 6 o’clock – In town shopping for Christmas, and most of the afternoon writing some unavoidable letters—but the house atmosphere cramped me—at last I am free, and taking the snow shovel I clean paths—the healthy vigor with which I did this, and the joy of physical exertion were such as I have not experienced for many a day.

Before supper for a walk—bitterly cold—it is dark, and a raw wind drives fine snow from the north—automobiles with their garish lights, light up ribbons of drifting snow.

Charles E. Burchfield, December 1, 1930