Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, Vol. 33, November 30, 1919

November 30, 1919 –

            As I go out into the terrific gale I notice the intense cheerful warmth of red bricks, and yellow wood, they glow more than on sunshiny days —

[The following passage is highlighted in red pencil in the left margin.]

            Here in this deep pinehollow where no wind ever comes; where the terrific gale in the outside world is but the vague rumour of roaring trees’ tops, indistinct because of the roar of waterfalls & the busy crackle of my fire — here there is always the peace of silent expectancy, eternal brooding — The snowflakes that outside were level streaks of white across the trees here flutter idly down like the toy snow of a child’s glass globe. The solemn gloom of this pine woods has a religious aspect.

            My fire has driven the spiders from the rocky ledge above —

            A white beech with its pale, ochre leaves, trembles at the passing of a stray breeze; against the dark green pines it stands; the fluttering flakes of snow mingle with the dancing leaves —

----------

            The wild sweep of wind over the bare hills! Great patches of rich cobalt sky —

—Charles E. Burhfield, November 30, 1919