"At nightfall a slow moving mass of dappled clouds gradually obscured the brilliant silver moon sliver like soggy ice floating in a February creek wipes out the sunsparkles –"
I had thought I would be able to work on the “Star Pierces the Clouds” picture, but was unable to get my mind free of petty worries.
A.M. – To Bentley’s & Farquhar’s woods walking — a fluffy fall of snow-flakes from the East – Sun a pale white spot – Immense silence of woods – the peter-bird song – nuthatches – Religious silvery-gray gloom of beech-grove.
The star snow.
P.M. – The sun a blood red – with a shaft of yellow light shooting up from it – sinks behind the gray-black houses.
In fields in front of Bentley’s for walk in the December dusk – S.W. the sky a rich neutral O; the snow startling white, houses “lost” in dense black haze.
About 2 or 3 inches of snow – alternate sunlight and clouds, a brisk wind from the s.w. a delightful early winter day.
A wild windy “zero” day. A blizzard all morning converting the world into a new land - the dimmed trees and houses almost horizontally streaked-they seem to loom, about to swell up out of their ordinary places.
Snowy December Day—Sun has feeling of being far far away; houses crouch + seem squatty (exaggerate this, leaving trees tall with only a few main branches)
A storm like this is a momentous occasion. All afternoon it came down. Down down down and as I looked out the window I wondered it did not make a roaring sound. The silence!
How can I get out of this slough? Everything I attempt is useless. – A bitterly raw, damp December day –
"...Houses various tones of steely grey – startle white windows of frost..."
A note to Posterity—What I want is a circular museum, large enough to house these four season transitions and six month transitions