Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, January 16, 1916

An ideal snowstorm comes slowly + is heralded the day before by dimming sun + dead calm.

P.M. By train to Cleveland.  Frost on window.  At alliance, the lights thru the frost film took on halos of myriad spectral hues.  Each light changed colors as it sped along the window –

The woods along the railroad have become a part of me.  Though I have never painted them, the twinkling of their trunks is a rare pictorial thing.

By breathing on the window, I bring to pass weird frost formations.  They look like steps in the arctic zone hung with icicles.

Three half-drunk foreigners keep up an incessant chatter.  I like to watch a man just tipsy enough to be talkative.  There is a sort of cynical nonchalance in his manner –

Charles E. Burchfield,  January 16, 1916 –