Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, January 1, 1916

A January Thaw!  The snow melting on the trees drips stickily into the soggy snow – now and then the crash of a larger piece of snow.

Behind the black silhouette of the cyclamen on the dining room table, the blue misty outdoors - blurred slanting streaks are sparrows dropping from the apple tree in search of crumbs –

Night comes early, with it I read Hugo's “Toilers of the Sea” at the very part where the fog is settling on the Durande.

The wind is rising – it tugs at my very soul, for a windstorm coming on the heels of a thaw is full of poetry to me – my place is outdoors.

Charles E. Burchfield, January 1, 1916