Long walk out Clinton St. to French Rd. A cold wind out of the south – a “new” moon-sliver high in the S.W. How good, and how friendly the earth, trees & sky seemed.
A bright clean sunny day—fine winter weather. I thought surely I would get to painting but I could not force myself to. My mind grows worse with each barren day.
In studio studying & making further plans for the 1917 picture.
Night walk over luminous fields – a wild wind out of SW – luminous zenith – I entered Post’s woods fascinated by its awfulness; but fled away in terror; as I had looking where nothing was two stumps suddenly appeared; the black north was awful –
The sky is flat grey; the houses dark & sunken in the snow; Smoke pours out of the chimney tops which look like black eyes. The great white gloom of the southeast hovers over the stupefied earth–
I walked out tonight in the terrific wind — it blew out of the west sifting new sandy snow over the polished icy surface of the old snow. I am Winter, cold buoyant winter tonight, without a desire, happy only to be alive and have senses.
In the hours of our self-sufficiency, we can attempt to define God; but when the soul is torn with anguish and we pray; there is no such attempt; our soul cries out to some- thing, & the act of prayer is partly creative.
2° below this morning. Everything white with frost. Tops of trees, sunlit, against the clear light blue sky.
The snow seemed white, until the great white puffs of smoke from trains are seen – then it is clear that the snow is darker (reflecting blue from the west sky