Charles Burchfield, Journals, February 18, 1915

Feb 18, 1915. A glorious day. Dawn clear. A heavy frost that bristles the grass white. At 10:30 sketching in park. The sky is such a wonderful blue that I fear I’ll miss some of its beauty if I do not gaze at it all the time. I expected at any moment to see a flock of bluebirds come down out of the sky as fog condenses into rain. How intense the sunshine! Looking towards it, the trees are full of a whirl of glints, like maze of spiderwebs; away from it,the trees rise up, vivid yellow and red, against the blue sky. A crow cawed! How it thrilled me! As I write I am beset with the same feeling as when looking at the sky - I fear that I may write too little of its beauty. Excellent weather for sap-running. Broken branches are hung with whitish icicles. I ate one and wondered if my imagination made it taste sweet.

Charles Burchfield
February 18, 1915