The January thaw.—Thick almost impenetrable fog—The pores of the earth seem to open and exude a chill dampness into the sodden air—The ice in the creek breaking up, but no real flood water yet—The great cakes of ice, haphazard along the creek,—
P.M. B&I to Buffalo, to cash check, get license & visit the new Knox room at the Gallery. It is what could be termed a “precious” exhibition, the body of it representing the most marked idiosyncracies of the Ultramodern Paris school.
Real winter arrived Saturday with a heavy snow, and since there has been some snow every day sometimes with wind, and the temperature has hovered around zero. (Today at 10 a.m. it was 7 below)
A peculiar morning: The earth was whitened with a film of snow, as if a great white light shown on it; while a dense fog, crowded down on all sides...
The analytical mind kills poetry. The rainbow was a supernatural event until someone explained it that falling rain broke up the sunlight into colors. Yet it is ignorance not to know it.
It was wonderful to go out into this riotous January day, snug and warm in the car – great nimbus clouds (such as generally come in late autumn) filled the whole southwest sky...
To an artist, a patch of sunlight (from an opening in the clouds) gliding over a snow-covered meadow, is of far more importance than a knowledge of the chemical composition of the sun, or its significance in our galaxy.
January moonlit night – it has been thawing and raining for several days – the creek is full to its banks – rushing headlong—
Last night the moon hazed by snow mist, was surrounded by a weird circle, the lower half of which was lost in the density of the horizon—seemingly thin like a rainbow, caused by moonlight striking snow!
It brought back to me, the Saturdays & Sundays at the Harbor when we lived at 459 Franklin – of the harsh wild life there, and of our life in the 3rd floor apartment – of the sandwiches Bertha used to fix for my sketching traps