Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, January 29, 1915

P.M. Along Painter + Batten Roads, Covered Bridge + Greene + Canfield Roads.

A powerful day, cold wind, clear sky + dazzling sunshine Along Painter Road; where beeches stood forth with their bone­white trunks from the yellow haze of their netted twigs; and further where, looking southward the fields glared up, and the sky seemed remote; and at the turn where I turned aside into the Old Orchard, and stood behind an old apple-tree and listened to the wind, as it spun the finely glittering snow over the endless field; and watched the start­ling writhing glint limbs, where the sun polished the ice-caps into a glare. Heaven was being recreated for me. Here someday, in the midst of nature I must finally seek my abode for here it is I am at perfect peace with myself. I care not that I love not the companionship of my fellowmen.

The drifting snow was irresistible - how wonderful it was! As the particles sped along, they now caught the sun’s sparkle and again lost it -!

Along Painter Road. Along a bank I noticed how some sun-struck orange weed-stalks stood out against the blue shadow of a rail fence, creating a purple haze, - At Trotter’s a Barn the swamp is inviting, and I enter it; The willow shrubs fill the air with a golden haze I saw one sparrow.

To Covered Bridge - A field sparrow - Frost designs on the black ice below East along road - The Long far-reaching Bottoms in the sifting wind and streaming sunshine seemed gloriously white - distant woods were based tho the air was clear - caused by the myriad sunny between, or flying snow fran the bills in the west

Stood long at Rosemeadow Woods, looking at the intense

blue sky thru the red branches of the interlaced trees; and at the deeper blue shadows that crawled up the hill to the sky. I never saw anything quite like it.

North along road to Greene Road. In a hollow I heard the explosion of a beech! It was with the keenest pleasure I strode along this road in the crunchy snow, in the mid-after­noon sunlight; and felt the icy wind blowing sunlight and snow­-dust around my feet.

Green Road was downhill; where the wind riddled my clothes. Home by Canfield Road. The day constantly grew more wonderful as the sun went nearer the horizon. The sun glared the snow mere blindingly; the wind sifted the snow more thickly; the sky became emerald; the shadows bluer; the distant hills to the east, looked a thousand miles away in the late sunshine; the air grew colder - the day was growing more intense at its close. I seemed in another land - in reality I was in complete harmony with myself.

Strange that I should have forgotten one of the trips most memorable events; while in the swamp I chanced to look across a smooth expanse of snow towards the sun, I was elated to see a million, intense red, blue, green + orange star-sparkles in the sun’s wake!

All along the Canfield Road I was accompanied by the “telegraph harp” which is the fitting music of such weather. I must always associate it with wide windswept fields in afternoon sunlight; while the humming of a pole just passed was still strong in my ears, the song of a new pole in a higher or lower and sometimes a minor key, commenced. Between the poles I heard the clipping of the clashing wires which was like the call of an unceasing katydid on an August night.

Charles E Burchfield, January 29, 1915 -