I had an odd dream of a rainstorm this morning. I was at home and as I saw it approaching, I was ever on the point of running for my sketch book but never did, fascinated as I was. The edge of the cloud-mass was sharply scalloped, and the cloud “points” were constantly curling under. Just before the storm broke the scallops changed suddenly to long thin tongues of mist, and flapped wildly as if wind blown.
Charles Burchfield, January 15, 1915