In winter houses seem only half as large as in summer
the trees heavily coated with ice stand like gigantic feathers and crackle in the wind – all horizons are an ominous dark gray...
Dark rainy weather up until this morning – cooler in the night – some rain had frozen on trees, bushes + grass –
In studio working on the 1921 journals transcribing the 1921 walking trip, Keller, Wilcox, Travis & I took along the Ohio River in June.
Not quite so cold— sunny and bright (+12°) In studio, working on the journals some more...
I have spent the last few days sorting and arranging my notes from 1922 onwards—The multitude of ideas that never have seen the light of day fills me with discouragement—
These powerful locomotives represent the spirit of the age… There is no thrill equal to that produced by one of these monsters rushing headlong down the steel road.
This strange season when the pale yellow afterglow in a snow-covered hill reminds one of spring-beauties!
A blinding glare in the watery pale blue southern sky, it sent forth enough heat to melt the surface of the snow in little waved recess, altho the day was bitterly cold.
My mind reverts always to a return to some time to a study of nature afield. Last year it was the same, and I recall with what eagerness I anticipated the summer.