Charles Burchfield, Journals, March 10, 1917

Bluebirds along the muddy road—singing of a telegraph—a feeling that spring may come but it is not time & nature grows more & more evil & hideous—the dusk is so hideous it crushes, black haze—strange clouds half seen in the starry sky; a cluster of stars to the north reminds of days when the Gods ruled on earth—

At times white flashes from the northern sky, once it glared brilliant pink over the sloppy road—

Woods in black haze, stars behind—

Nights on which a window open in a room yawns a frightful black; outside, black house shapes gleam against a whitish horizon; a rainspout may rattle.

Charles Burchfield, March 10, 1917